Shatterheart
by Tonight's The Night
Summary: How long does it take for a lie to become truth? When one heart shatters and the other slips away, how can they put the pieces together without shattering everything else? How can they even justify what they're doing now? KuroSyao. Yaoi.
1. A Misstep

_Author's Notes:_

_You'll probably think I'm crazy for writing a story with this pairing, but I wanted to see if I could do it successfully. _

_Even though this is technically a crack pairing, this is by no means a crack fic. I'm going to write a serious, multi-chapter fic about an intimate relationship between Syaoran and Kurogane. So I apologize if you dislike this pairing, but I'm going to go ahead with it._

_Warnings: eventual yaoi, intense violence, language, and pretty much everything a story could be rated M for. Also, spoilers for basically the whole series, without further notice._

_As with my other Tsubasa series, I will refer to C!Syaoran as the Other._

* * *

Chapter One

"Sakura-chan and I are going grocery shopping," Fai called.

Syaoran pressed his ear against the bedroom wall, called to attention by the declaration. Since Tokyo, Fai seldom spoke above a murmur.

Through the wall, Syaoran heard the apartment door creak open, heard Sakura's metal leg brace collide with the cement floor. Fresh guilt twisted in his abdomen like a knife. Even seven years after turning back time, he was still suffering with the consequences of his desperate wish.

"We'll be back soon," Sakura said, taking the final steps out of the apartment.

"Later," Kurogane called from the living room, just before the door closed. After that, there was silence.

Almost. Until Syaoran's stomach groaned, at least. He wrapped an arm around his abdomen to stifle the sound, his throat constricting with shame. Denying his hunger wasn't healthy—it was selfish to wear down his body when he had a chess tournament coming up, and more selfish to hole up in his room just to avoid the chill that crept into the air every time the others noticed him. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to face them, not even to fill the gnawing absence in his stomach.

Fai and Sakura were probably upstairs and in the lobby by now. Only Kurogane remained. Of his traveling companions, the ninja was the least cold to him. Perhaps if he moved quickly, dug through the fridge and brought something back to fill the chasm of his stomach, Kurogane wouldn't grow too irritated with his presence.

_That's what I'll do, _he thought, creeping down from the thin mattress and unlocking his door. He winced at the sound of gears sliding together, knowing they announced his entrance just as loudly as a greeting would have.

His door came open with a groan, and he stepped into the living room, head down. In his peripheral vision, he saw Kurogane glance up at him, then back to the book in his hands.

Syaoran hurried past the couch, nose twitching at the bitter smell of cigarette smoke and other, more sinister concoctions. He reached the refrigerator and pulled the door open.

"Been a while since I've seen you," Kurogane remarked from the sofa.

Syaoran's flinched. "Yeah . . ." He waited for the ninja to say something else. When the room remained silent, he turned back to the treasures offered by the refrigerator. He pulled a bag of cold cuts from the drawer, along with lettuce and other miscellaneous foods. When he was satisfied with the limited offerings of the cheese drawer, he closed the door and pulled half a loaf of bread from the top of the refrigerator.

_I'll make something to eat now, and something that will keep until tomorrow, _he thought, already devising ways to avoid his traveling companions. He plucked two slices of bread from the bag and started stacking disks of bologna and salami on top. Every two layers, he added a layer of lettuce and mayonnaise. By the time he dropped the top slice of bread onto the sandwich, it was three inches thick.

For a moment, he considered retreating to his room and eating now, just to alleviate the hunger. But that meant he'd have to come out here again next time he needed food. _Better if I just make something for tomorrow, as long as I'm here._

He hurried to make something that would keep for the night. That meant searching the barren cupboards for the weeks-ignored jar of peanut butter.

"You planning a camping trip or what?"

He glanced back, pushing aside a box of instant potatoes. "Huh?"

Kurogane inclined his head toward the stack of sandwich supplies. "It looks like you're packing to run away or something."

"Oh." _Run away? _he thought, sliding the peanut butter out of the cupboard. _No, I couldn't do that. I'd have to stay in Mokona's translation range, and if we suddenly had to go to the next world, I could end up separated from the others with no way to find them. _

"Are you?"

_Am I what? _He blinked, searching for a butter knife to spread the peanut butter across the bread. "Going camping, or running away?" he asked hesitantly.

Kurogane let out an exasperated sigh and returned his attention to his book—shutting him out like everyone else. Suddenly, it wasn't hunger, but nausea, churning away in Syaoran's stomach. He understood why Fai turned away. He even understood why Sakura did.

But Kurogane was his one tenuous connection to this group, the one person who might speak for him if the others ever decided they were better off without him. To see him turn away made Syaoran's throat close up with something akin to panic. "I'm not going anywhere," he choked out, struggling to breathe.

Kurogane turned back to him, his expression somewhere between displeasure and resignation. Syaoran looked up, meeting someone's eyes for the first time in weeks. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, a little more controlled. "But I don't want to be a burden to anyone, so . . ." His eyes flashed to the floor, breaking the thin connection he'd allowed himself.

"So what? You're just going to sit around in your room all day while your health goes to shit?"

His fingers tightened convulsively around the butter knife. He turned back to the counter, hurrying to finish his preparations. Once he'd finished making the last sandwich, he packed up the remaining cold cuts and bread and put everything in its place.

"Is this the first time you've eaten all day?" Kurogane demanded.

_Yes. _"Um . . . I'm not sure."

Kurogane took that as an affirmative. "Fine, then. How long has it been? You plan on starving yourself or something?"

"No!" he said quickly, jamming each sandwich into a small plastic bag. Infinity seemed fairly well-developed despite its barbaric tournaments, which meant it had little luxuries like sandwich bags. Even so, Syaoran hated this world, hated the barren, cracked walls of their subterranean apartment. "No, I . . . I ate last night." _Yesterday afternoon, at least._ His stomach snarled.

The hostility level dropped off a bit. Kurogane stood, his red eyes never wavering from Syaoran's face. Syaoran tried to look up and found that he couldn't. He hurried to his room, only to have the ninja's hand clamp down on his shoulders. "You need to take better care of yourself. If you don't start, I'll stand outside your door and _make _you eat."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking another step toward his room. Kurogane's grip tightened, until it was almost painful. Kurogane turned him so they were face-to-face.

"Look at me," the ninja commanded.

Syaoran struggled to raise his eyes, feeling his stomach contract with anxiety. The last thing he'd wanted to do was upset the one person who deigned to speak to him, and now he was trapped, unable to say anything, unable to even follow a simple command. His shoulders curled in under the weight of his shame.

"Look at me."

_I can't, _he thought, feeling the mayonnaise slip past the boundaries of the sandwich and smear against the inside of the plastic bag. He waited, immobile, for another command, hoping that somehow the order would jar him out of the sickening uncertainty he felt now. But Kurogane's hand dropped to his side, freeing Syaoran. Abandoning him.

"Wait," he whispered, just as the ninja was about to turn away from him again.

"What?"

"I . . . I'm sorry if . . . if I upset you." He forced the muscles in his neck to unlock, forced himself to look up and meet the ninja's eyes despite the frenetic flips of his stomach. He caught a glimpse of red before his chin dipped down again. "I'll take better care of myself, so please . . . don't concern yourself with my health."

Kurogane's eyebrows slanted down. "It's none of your business what I concern myself with."

He bit his tongue, wondering what he could say to rectify the misunderstanding. "I didn't mean it like that."

The ninja's expression softened slightly, but he said nothing. The silence pressed on Syaoran's eardrums like liquid lead being pumped into his ear canals. _He's not saying anything, _he thought, his breath coming faster. _It's like he didn't even hear me. Like I'm a ghost. _

Images of Sakura's eyes, hardened by the events of Tokyo, flashed through his mind, crippling his lungs and leaving him breathless. If everyone had only resented him, he could've tolerated it. Even if they'd been outwardly hostile, he could've endured it. But not this. Not this pressing silence, not the apathy, not the lack of reaction.

Not this.

Kurogane stood stoic, unmoved by the turmoil raging in the air around them. Even though the ninja was looking right at him, his gaze was hollow, unseeing. Any connection between them was slipping away.

_I'm lost, _Syaoran thought miserably. _I'm lost to them. I'm nothing but a doll wearing the Other's face. _

Something shuddered and gave way inside him, like a decrepit building finally crumpling under its own weight. He _had _to prove that he wasn't the same as his clone, had to prove, both to himself and the others, that he existed as something more than a blueprint for his copy. He had to provoke some sort of reaction.

He had to do something the Other would never do.

It was impulsive, more reckless than anything he'd ever attempted, and stupider than anything he'd done yet. But it was the only thing he could think of, as he saw the infinitesimal movement of Kurogane's shoulders shifting away from him, that would be sure to elicit a response. Clumsily, he rocked forward on his tiptoes and brought his lips to the ninja's.

Kurogane reeled back, eyes flying wide open. Their mouths separated, just as clumsily as they'd come together. Syaoran saw a flash of movement, felt something connect with his sternum. In a blur of movement, he shot backwards, shoulder slamming into the wall. The air rushed out of his lungs, the sandwiches falling forgotten on the cement floor. Pain twisted through his chest, half from the impact, half from his own guilt.

It was the first time in weeks he'd gotten anything more than a glance or handful of words from anyone, and it had to be this.

Kurogane towered over him as he slumped onto the ground. Where there had been nothing but a blank wall before, now there was a roiling cloud of fury pressing down on him, ripping the air from his lungs. The expression of rage on the ninja's face was so absolute and overpowering that Syaoran could only stare, frozen.

Kurogane took half a step forward, and Syaoran's survival instinct kicked in. The haze of hostility pervaded the air around him. The blood retreated from his head, allowing smears of black to form in his vision.

He bolted.

He almost didn't make it back to his room. A heavy hand coiled around his upper arm, dragging him back. Syaoran flailed, his elbow slamming into the wall in his frantic flight. The wild movements freed his arm from the ninja's grasp, and his legs propelled him toward his bedroom door. His hip smashed into the doorframe as he ripped the door open, hard enough to leave a bruise.

But he made it. He slipped in through the tiny gap he made for himself and slammed the door, locking it with shaking hands. He slumped to the floor, leaning against the thin wooden frame to keep from collapsing.

Kurogane's fist smashed into the other side of the door with a splintering sound.


	2. Broken Doors and Sandwiches

Chapter Two

The door reverberated with the repeated impacts, hinges protesting against the abuse. "Boy!"

Syaoran braced himself against the other side of the door, every hit sending a jolt through his spine. His pulse pounded in his ears, a steady beat to underscore the sound of Kurogane's fists slamming into the wood. Adrenaline flooded his veins, sharpening his senses. His lungs convulsed with every breath.

"_Boy!_"

There was a final, splintering impact, and for a moment, Syaoran froze, fearing the ninja would break down the door, that the consequences of his rash decision would come back to bite him before the ninja could calm down.

It was quiet. Like the silence left behind after the end of the world.

Finally, he heard Kurogane curse softly beyond the door, heard the soft footfalls of his retreat. Syaoran exhaled silently, leaning against the abused door. A juncture on one of the hinges had come loose, leaving the metal dangling. _How am I going to fix _that_? _he wondered, lifting his trembling hands from the door. The adrenaline lingered in his system, sapping his fine muscle control and leaving him a shaking mess in front of the door. He laid down on the cement, letting his body heat seep into the ground.

He wasn't sure if he felt exhilarated or terrified. On one hand, he'd effectively proven that he wasn't simply a blueprint for his clone—the Other would've never even considered doing such a thing. Plus, he'd gotten a reaction. Albeit a harsh reaction, but he was definitely the first thing on _someone's _mental list right now. But on the other hand . . . Kurogane wasn't an exceptionally forgiving person. Honorable, yes. Protective, yes. But not the kind of person to forget something so rash. In less than a second, Syaoran had probably damaged their relationship more than the Other had strained everyone else's in Tokyo.

_This can't end well, _Syaoran thought, curling up on the cement and closing his eyes. After a few minutes, the chill of the floor drove him to his ratty mattress. At the thought of going into the arena, he tensed. _Two days. That's all the time we have before our next match. That's when I'll have to face him again. _His heart contracted painfully in his chest, as if pushing a blood clot through its passages. He shivered. _There's no way he'll be over it by then. He'll see me. We'll have to _talk _about this. _

He groaned softly, shriveling up on the bed and drawing the sheets around his shoulders. "What a nightmare," he murmured.

As the last wisps of adrenaline faded from his bloodstream, the pains of his body began to make themselves known again. A deep ache pulsed in his shoulder, in time with the steady beating of his heart. From the intensity, he had to consider the possibility that his shoulder had cracked when Kurogane had slammed him into the wall. _I deserve worse than that, _he thought.

A weaker ache lingered in his elbow, where he'd smashed it into the sheetrock in his flight. _The wall is probably cracked. Someone will have to fix that, too . . . _

His upper arm was bruised from the force of the ninja's grip—again, nothing more than he deserved or would've expected if he'd had more time to consider his actions. His hip hurt, bruised when he'd slammed into the doorframe on his way back to this closet-sized room. A few minor scrapes and bruises, likely from the brief scuffle. Except for his shoulder, it was nothing that wouldn't heal before the next chess match. _Nothing I can't hide._

He laid on his stomach, clearing his mind of the consequences he'd face later. It didn't matter. It was done with. Next time he had an impulse to force a reaction, he'd suppress it.

Even if this had been the first time anyone had treated him like something more than a ghost.

* * *

It had been a long time since he'd been this furious. As the blood trickled down his knuckles, Kurogane realized that. "Fuck," he hissed, stalking away from the door. The wood had splintered, leaving a softball-sized dent where his fist had connected. He couldn't be sure, in this shitty apartment, whether the door had actually caved in from the repeated impacts, or if water damage had warped it before they'd ever arrived here.

Kurogane didn't care either way.

He stalked over to the tiny bathroom and turned the knob on the sink. After a few seconds of dripping, the faucet started streaming cold water into the basin. He rinsed the blood off his hands, letting his raw knuckles go numb under the icy water. The low temperature slowed the flow of blood in his hand until the wound stopped bleeding.

He didn't allow himself to think about what had just happened.

He wrapped some gauze around his knuckles to keep the wounds from reopening, then headed to the living room. For a moment, he considered walking back over to the boy's room and demanding an explanation. Before he could, he caught sight of the crumbling dent in the sheetrock. "What the hell?" He moved closer, scrutinizing the volleyball-sized hole. It was about level with his elbow. Gleaming brass pipes peeked out between the cracks.

Fragments of the last few minutes flickered through his mind. The kid drawing closer, his own hand coming down on the boy's sternum and shoving him into the wall, the sound of sheetrock crumbling.

Damn it all.

Kurogane focused on taming the fury in his chest. He'd always had a volatile temper, always _known _he'd had one. Even so, it was rare for him to lose control of it so completely, and now that his rage was cooling, he had to survey the damage.

In addition to the hole in the wall, there was a smaller dent about a foot away. The bedroom door was also conspicuously beaten up. The kid was probably cowering in the corner of his room.

There were sandwiches on the floor.

The sandwiches. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he realized that was the only thing the boy had left his room for. After almost twenty hours without visiting the kitchen, he had to be starving. _That stupid brat, _he thought, snatching the sandwiches off the cement. Sheathed in plastic, they'd remained in tact. _I told him to take care of himself. He should've taken these with him. _

He stalked over to the fridge and tossed both sandwiches on one of the empty shelves. As he looked over the barren refrigerator, he realized why the boy had chosen that moment to abandon his room. _Of course. The mage and the princess are out shopping. He doesn't want them to see him like this. _

The fact that anyone could be so reluctant to face their own companions that they wouldn't even leave their bedroom to eat was almost as unsettling as it was contemptible.

Kurogane slammed the refrigerator door hard enough to make the appliance wobble. Once it settled, he returned his attention to the cracks in the sheetrock, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't sound ludicrous.

After all, it wasn't like he was about to _tell _the others what had happened. The mage would never let him live it down. The princess would break down even further until she came to the ridiculous conclusion that this was somehow her fault.

Besides, the actual explanation was so ridiculous, he wasn't even sure he believed it himself. It wasn't as if the boy could harbor any feelings like _that_ toward him—he was in love with the princess. _No, it has to be something else, _the ninja thought, pacing the length of the living room. _But what could he want that could possibly benefit from doing something like _that_? _The corner of his lip twitched, prickling from the unexpected contact.

_Stupid to worry about it, _he finally decided. _Stupid to even think about it._

* * *

Hours passed, and the pit in his stomach deepened.

He'd realized, minutes after lying down, that he'd dropped his sandwiches at some point during the confrontation. At first, he'd considered going out to retrieve them. But he hadn't been able to pluck up the nerve to face Kurogane, and when Fai and Sakura returned from their shopping trip, he gave up any notion of going out again until everyone was asleep.

So for hours, the hunger gnawed away at him, twisting through his belly like a dagger working through his entrails, mingling with the sickening sense of guilt so that he was forced to lie there, clutching his abdomen. All the while, noises from outside taunted him—the sound of pots and pans banging together as Fai prepared dinner for the rest, the sound of water boiling, of dry noodles cracking and falling into water. Most torturous of all was the smell of oregano and garlic and tomatoes that seeped underneath his door with false promises of food.

He knew the others would let him eat, if he asked. But they wouldn't be expecting him to, after weeks of eating separately. Every bite he took would be one taken from their plates, stolen from under their noses.

"What happened to the wall?" Fai asked at one point, voice rising with surprise. Syaoran had tensed, pressing an ear against the wall, praying Kurogane would say nothing, hoping that if he did say something that it would be an exceptionally rare lie.

"I punched the wall," Kurogane had grumbled from the couch. Syaoran had sunk back into his sheets, numb with relief.

"Why?" Fai had asked.

"The bathroom sink backed up."

Before the magician could respond to that, Kurogane had silenced him with a threat. Syaoran had pulled the pillow from under his head and used it to cover his ears. Even then, he heard Fai assessing the damage, endured the torment of the boiling water, suffered maddening breaks in conversation that indicated everyone else was just a little too tense to shatter the silence.

Syaoran wondered how long it would take for him to go insane.

Because they didn't have a chess match to worry about tomorrow, the others stayed up late, watching TV from the tiny screen. As usual, Sakura was the first to go to bed. Fai followed to tuck her in for the night. Syaoran allowed himself a moment to envy their closeness, then berated himself for his jealousy.

Fai went to bed shortly after.

Syaoran listened for the moment when the television would shut off. There was little else to do between chess matches, and while Mokona had determined that there was a feather in this world, it was too distant to be tracked, and they had no efficient way of combing the city. The general consensus had been that they'd wait for signs of the feather's presence, wait for someone to come out and flaunt its powers, however it manifested itself in this world.

After an hour, Syaoran began to wonder if Kurogane had fallen asleep sitting in front of the TV, and that was why he hadn't heard the ninja go to bed. But because there was no way to be sure, no way to know that he was safe from prying eyes, he just curled up tighter and listened to the protests of his stomach.

He could feel his self-control crumbling the longer he laid there. It wouldn't be long before the hunger pangs would force him into the kitchen, regardless of who was watching. Even if he could endure that, he'd still need to venture out to the bathroom eventually.

He stood for the first time in hours to pace the room. Perhaps he could scrape by on two journeys outside his room each day, once after everyone went to bed and once before they woke. It wouldn't be healthy—his muscles were already beginning to atrophy from all the time he spent holed up in this closet-sized room—but he could survive it if he had to.

Outside, he heard the TV shut off. _Finally, _he thought, letting out a breath. For the third time that day, he pressed an ear against the wall to listen.

Kurogane passed from the couch to the bathroom, preparing for bed before finally retiring to his room. Syaoran heard the door click shut.

He knew it would take a few minutes for the ninja to fall asleep, possibly longer after what had happened this afternoon. But by now, his stomach was protesting so loudly, it was bound to keep the ninja up anyway.

He hurried to the door and twisted the lock, pausing to listen for approaching footsteps. When no one came, he turned the knob. The broken hinge protested, creaking louder than usual. _I really, _really_ have to fix that, _he thought, slipping out of his room.

He scurried over to the fridge and pulled it open, flinching at every sound, every harsh slap of his bare feet against the cement. He had to hurry and find something to eat before one of his companions woke up wondering what he was doing in the kitchen. His eyes roved the now-loaded shelves, searching for something easy to make that would sustain him.

His gaze froze on the stack of sandwiches in the back of the fridge.

_I can't believe he didn't throw these away, _Syaoran thought, snaking his hand around an unopened jar of pickles to get at the plastic-sheathed sandwiches. He pulled them out and cradled them to his chest, heart thumping painfully under his ribs. Had Kurogane left them here on purpose, or had it been an afterthought? Was it some sort of scruple regarding the conservation of food that had driven him to save the sandwiches here instead of tossing them? Or had they been left there to flood Syaoran with fresh guilt upon seeing them?

His stomach clenched painfully, and he stopped wondering. He pulled a couple fruits and vegetables from the drawer to supplement his meal and closed the fridge.

Syaoran returned to his room, locked the door, and ate for the first time in over twenty-four hours.


	3. Hairline Fracture

Chapter Three

The next two days passed with all the speed and fanfare of a funeral procession.

Syaoran left his room twice every night: once after everyone went to sleep to clean up in the bathroom and get food, and once as the sun peered through his diminutive window to stock up on food and other things for the rest of the day. Other than that, he only ventured out for the most vital bathroom trips, and only when someone else was in the living room with Kurogane.

It wasn't that he thought the ninja would _hurt_ him, though Syaoran wouldn't blame him if he wanted to. It was his own cowardice that forced him to obey these self-imposed rules. As long as someone else was in the room, Kurogane couldn't broach the subject. It was shameful, cowardly, and Syaoran was sure Kurogane resented him for it, but he couldn't have broken these rules even if he'd wanted to.

He read and reread books he'd borrowed from the library, examining the brutal history of this dismal country. Though he'd never had much interest in history before his clone had met Fujitaka, he couldn't deny that the Other's perceptions had changed him. Texts he would've found boring seven years ago were now intriguing, even engaging. And anything that got his mind off that impulsive moment of contact was worth his time as long as he was sequestering himself in this room.

Sometimes, when the opportunity presented itself, he would eavesdrop on the conversations beyond his door. On the first day, this was mostly to monitor what Kurogane might say regarding what he'd done. When it became clear that the ninja had no interest in relaying that information, Syaoran listened just to hear the others talk. Since he could not speak to any of them, he settled on listening to what they said to each other.

Sakura seldom spoke compared to how often she'd spoken before Tokyo. Most of what she said was directed at Fai. Much of that related to daily conveniences and chore division. Even in the rare moments when she spoke for some reason other than to keep the apartment running smoothly, her voice was layered with a heartbreaking depression that hadn't existed before Tokyo.

Kurogane had never been much of a conversationalist, but from what Syaoran could tell, he was being quieter than usual, responding to Fai's half-playful, half-serious remarks less often.

Fai was the most vocal, though he still talked little compared to the days before Tokyo. In less tense moments, he teased Kurogane, just as he had before. But now he was calling the ninja by name rather than by the nicknames everyone had grown so accustomed to. Another drastic shift caused by his arrival.

_It all goes back to Tokyo, _Syaoran thought, words blurring together on the page in front of him. _Everything shattered in Tokyo, and now I've gone and stepped in the broken glass left behind. _

Evenings were the hardest. Syaoran never quite calculated his food stores correctly, meaning he usually went without a meal when his stomach was used to having one. And then he would be tormented by the sizzle of whatever Fai was cooking. Twice, the smell of pancakes made his stomach groan, and he was reminded of the hours he'd gone without food the day he'd ruined everything.

The two days passed slowly, but still too fast. When he heard a knock on his door, his spine went rigid.

"The chess match starts in half an hour," Kurogane called through the door. His voice was so nonchalant, it stole Syaoran's reply. "Get dressed and come out here."

Syaoran's chest seized up as if an invisible anaconda had dropped down from the ceiling and coiled around his torso. He forced himself to move toward the two-drawer dresser and don his last pair of clean clothes—a black T-shirt with deliberately ripped sleeves and a black pair of jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, lamenting the fact that he'd need to shower at some point tonight. He supposed there were showers in the gym he could use, to avoid waking the others . . .

Once dressed, he unlocked his door and stepped into the living room. The others were already waiting at the door. When he glanced up, he saw that Kurogane was looking down the hallway, pointedly ignoring him.

Given the circumstances, he supposed that was a good thing.

They walked toward the dome that housed the chess matches. For the first half of their trek, it was silent. None of them enjoyed going to these tournaments—Fai and Sakura hated it because they hated fighting in general. Kurogane hated it because, according to what he'd muttered to Fai in the two days since Syaoran had isolated himself, there was no real competition. The aim wasn't to kill the opposing team, or even seriously maim them, merely beat them into submission. And Syaoran hated it because, even though part of him longed to see Sakura, the distance between them was so much more obvious when they were close.

"So it sounds like this match will cover our living expenses for the month," Fai said as they caught sight of the massive white dome.

No one responded to his comment. When the pause grew awkward, Sakura interjected. "We should try to win."

"Well naturally," Kurogane said, his voice even. Syaoran risked a glance in his direction, but flinched when the ninja's eyes slid back to meet his.

That was it for conversation. They entered the dome, checked in at the reception desk, and went to their temporary chambers to wait for the beginning of the match. The close quarters meant little space to move around, no place to hide. Syaoran sat in the corner, facing away from the others as he fitted the spiked collar around his neck. The chains connecting him to the others would come later, once they were in the arena.

Absently, he massaged his damaged shoulder. He winced at the flash of pain the movement caused. _That's only going to get worse once we get into the arena, _he thought, stretching out the joint as much as he could in the limited time they had before the match. When the pain didn't dissolve after a few minutes, he was forced to conclude that it really _had _fractured when he'd hit the wall. _If we can win this match, I'll have the rest of the month to let it heal. I'll be fine. _He exhaled quietly, trying to cope with the ache without tipping off the others. When he turned around, however, Kurogane was staring at him.

Their eyes locked for a moment. Syaoran's heart rate doubled in tempo, blood rushing to his cheeks. He turned away before the others could notice his blush.

"Black Team to the arena," a voice blared over the intercom. Syaoran rose from the bench, following the others down the stairs and into the tunnel beneath the arena.

Sakura situated herself in the egg-shaped pod, allowing arena employees to affix chains to the loops on her collar. Each chain led to one of them, and would, according to the pamphlet he'd read the first time they'd been here, modulate their physical abilities according to the mental fortitude of their chess master.

He wondered what that would feel like, in the event Sakura ever lost her composure during one of these matches.

"Step onto the platform, please," one of the employees said, handing them their pre-selected weapons. For Syaoran, it was a pair of dagger-tipped rings. For Fai, it was a strange, hooked blade attached to the end of a black cord. Kurogane's tournament-approved sword was the only normal weapon they had.

The platform shifted under their feet and rose like an elevator. In less than a minute, they were standing on their side of the arena, surrounded by thousands of spectators.

"Big crowd tonight," Fai commented.

"You said the stakes were big," Kurogane said. "I'm guessing that means more viewers."

The other team rose from the ground, earning a chorus of cheers from the audience. "It looks like we aren't the preferred victors this time around," Fai said.

Syaoran glanced back at Sakura, cherishing the brief moment when their gazes met and mourning the moment when her face turned away. _I won't let us lose this. She won't have to put herself through this for nothing._

"Teams ready!" the announcer called. Syaoran took a fighting stance, trying to identify weaknesses in his opponents. If they had any, he couldn't find them in the second he had to look.

"Fight!"

Their team shot forward, weapons in hand. The chains attached to their collars jingled and weighed them down. The other team did the same, pushing forward until they both occupied the center of the board.

Syaoran took on the nearest opponent, a man of about twenty, with a white streak running through his black hair. The man raised the gleaming metal claws provided by the arena supervisors.

Syaoran blocked the attack with his daggers. Rather than ripping his face open, the other man's claws only grazed his nose. Syaoran brought the daggers around, aiming to sever the man's leather collar. While rendering all opponents unable to fight ended the match, severing individual players' collars took them out of the game.

And besides, Syaoran didn't especially want to kill anyone.

"You're quick," his opponent said.

Syaoran stayed silent, not allowing himself to be drawn into conversation when he had a fight to win. He brought the daggers around in twin arcs, aiming for the leather strap tethering his opponent to his chess master.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with knives?"

Syaoran feinted as if to use his dagger again. When the man's attention was focused on avoiding that, Syaoran brought his leg up and smashed his heel into the man's face. He reeled back, his multihued hair flaring as he hit the ground. Without hesitation, Syaoran threw himself to the floor and brought his dagger to the man's neck, slicing the ribbon of his collar.

"White Team Rook, retreat to back of arena!" the referrees commanded.

Hissing, the man retreated to the opposite side of the arena. Syaoran turned his attention to the others, trying to find an avenue to victory. He saw Kurogane knock out one of their opponents with a punch. Syaoran winced, teeth rattling at the mere thought of getting hit like that. _It's lucky nothing worse happened two nights ago, _he thought, scanning the area for their final opponent.

"Look out!" Fai shouted across the arena, racing toward him.

Syaoran tried to turn, but the movement was crippled by the rope wrapping around his throat. When he tried to yank himself free, all the slack went out of the rope, clamping his windpipe shut. Almost immediately, his vision danced with black spots. His fingernails dug at his throat, instinct driving him to free himself from the strangling cords.

His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. His legs buckled under him like melting support struts in a building. He lifted his eyes, searching for some escape.

The last thing he saw before his vision went black was a pair of blood-colored eyes.


	4. Offers and Acceptance

Chapter Four

Before he was even awake, Syaoran became aware of the new pain in his windpipe.

Every time he breathed, the rawness of his throat made him wish he was still asleep. Focused on the pain, it took him a moment to recognize the familiar lumps of his thin mattress, the scratchy sheets he'd curled up in for the past few days.

He tried to roll over, then realized something was pinning his shoulder in place. His eyes flashed to the obstruction, roving over the off-white bindings, the metal hinges of the brace. A fresh jolt of pain snaked down his throat, like a finger of fire being jammed into his lungs. He worked to slow his breathing.

_I must've passed out during the fight, _he thought, chin tilting down under the weight of his shame. As if he hadn't already failed the others enough, now he was getting hurt in simple tournaments.

Outside, he could hear the daily movements of his companions. From the squeak of fabric against a hard surface, he guessed Fai was washing dishes. As far as he knew, that was one of the magician's primary occupations. Below that, voices from the television muttered about this and that in the cadence of news reporters. From the low volume, Syaoran guessed no one was really paying attention to the news. It was background noise. Something to distract them from this miserable world.

After a few moments, he tried to sit up again. This time, his efforts were met with success. He threw off the blankets, letting the stale, cold air drive away the last of his grogginess. Being careful not to damage his throat, he sighed.

The needs of his body indicated that he'd been asleep for at least a few hours. His stomach grumbled in complaint. As he contemplated a quick run to the kitchen, he caught sight of the plate on his dresser. On it were two bagels. Beside those were containers of cream cheese and jam.

Syaoran's heart gave a peculiar little squeeze.

He picked up the plate and slathered jelly over the first bagel, wondering which of his companions had dropped this off for him. The first bite distracted him from his musings, sliding down his throat like a sword scraping against his entrails. He gagged, then forced himself to swallow. _Nice, _he thought. _Way to plan ahead. _

Miserable, he set the plate aside and picked up one of the books he'd already read. _These will be due back at the library soon, _he thought, flipping to a passage about one of Infinity's political upheavals. He was only a few paragraphs in when his bedroom door swung open.

He jumped, almost dropping the book. It was only by virtue of reflex that he kept it from falling out of his lap. Hastily, he set it aside, looking up to see who'd come to visit him. When he identified the figure, his lungs convulsed. "Kurogane-san," he rasped.

The ninja looked back at him with an unreadable expression, closing the door behind him. "You didn't eat."

Syaoran looked to the bagel with a single bite taken from the side. "I can't."

Kurogane approached the bed, as silent as a shadow. _Here it comes. _Syaoran cringed, unable to look the ninja in the eyes. Kurogane sat down on the edge of the bed, as far from him as possible in the cramped room. "You didn't tell me about your shoulder."

"It got hurt during the fight."

Kurogane's fingers clamped down on his chin, jerking his head to the side so their faces were inches away. He reeled back, a lump forming in his bruised throat, but the ninja wouldn't release him. "Don't lie to me. I did that."

Syaoran tried unsuccessfully to free his face from the ninja's grip. His eyelids pinched shut.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He remained silent.

"There's no one else here. If you have something to say, then say it."

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

He looked up, trying to hold back the flutter of panic in his chest. There was no way he'd be able to make himself say it, no way he'd be able to relive his shameful actions that way. Yet Kurogane was waiting for him to say something. "You know what for."

"Then say it."

"I can't."

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. Syaoran looked away.

"Why'd you do it?"

He exhaled, trying to formulate a response. He wrapped his arms around his torso, shielding himself from the suddenly frigid air. "I wanted to see what you would do."

"What the hell kind of reason is that?"

"It's the only reason I have," he whispered.

Kurogane made a sound of disgust and stood up.

"Wait," Syaoran rasped. At the word, he dissolved into a fit of coughing. Every spasm pricked at his damaged vocal cords, drawing him deeper into the fit.

Kurogane sighed. "You really are hopeless, aren't you?"

Syaoran flinched as if the remark had been a slap. His eyes found the carpet and stayed there. After a moment, he saw a shadow moving across the floor, the sudden rush of light escaping through his door.

It slammed with a sound of finality.

* * *

Kurogane stalked over to the couch, flexing his fingers with pent-up frustration. It was bad enough that he'd hurt the kid in a fit of rage, however justified. It was worse that the boy was denying the injury, pretending their opponents had been at fault, acting as if the fault existed somewhere outside the group when the fissure behind it sat at the heart of it.

Worse still that he'd let his anger bleed into his reactions again. _As if the kid isn't already scared enough, _Kurogane thought bitterly.

He'd accepted—or at least _tried _to accept—that the boy's actions had been a mere impulse, a cry for attention. But every time he looked at the kid, every time he even saw the boy out of the corner of his eye, he wanted to throw him into a wall all over again. He'd almost done that a second ago. The only thing that had stopped him was the off-white bandages holding the boy's fractured shoulder together, the terror in his eyes.

The worst of it all was that the boy's shoulder had been broken for two days and, not only had the boy been too timid to bring it up, but Kurogane had failed to detect the injury until he'd seen the boy's painful stretches in the arena's prep room.

He snatched the remote from the armrest and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels in a mindless attempt to control his frustration. By the time he heard Syaoran's door click open, he'd flipped through all five-hundred channels three times.

He continued clicking, thumb pressing down harder on the much-abused buttons. From what he'd catalogued of the kid's habits, this was likely a trip to the bathroom. He doubted the boy would venture to the kitchen—over the past two days, he'd only glimpsed the boy entering the kitchen once, hours after everyone had been asleep. Kurogane remembered waking up to the sound of something plastic hitting the floor, remembered getting up, sword in hand, and peering out the bedroom door to see Syaoran bending over to pick up a plastic cup from the linoleum floor. From the expression on his face, one would've thought the boy had tripped a landmine.

When he didn't hear the distinct creak of the bathroom door after a few seconds, he looked over to see the boy staring at him. As soon as their gazes met, the boy looked away, the light in his eyes dying like an ember tossed away from the fire pit.

"Yes?"

The boy's voice was hoarse, like before. "I thought you were going to shut me out like everyone else. That's why I did it."

_Well, you've done a fine job of shutting him out, haven't you? _mocked the darker half of his mind. He set down the remote. "Yeah?"

Syaoran's cheeks reddened slightly, his eyes crawling to the corner of the room. "I apologize for my actions."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. This kid knew all the variations of "I'm sorry," it seemed. Kurogane spoke. "It's done with now, right?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "It won't happen again."

Kurogane nodded once. The kid's eyes flashed up to his for a fraction of a second, then away. For the first time, Kurogane detected the strain in his uninjured shoulder, the rigidity of his legs, the unhealthy pallor of his skin. Under the embarrassment, the boy was afraid.

He stood, approaching slowly. Frustration swept through him when the boy cringed. "Stay still," he commanded. "Let me look at your shoulder."

The boy froze, every muscle rigid as Kurogane turned him to the side. The shoulder brace, attached to a thin leather strap wrapped around his ribcage, concealed most of the damage. All that remained of visible proof was the slight discoloration around the hairline fracture. Fused together by the brace, the boy's shoulder blade would heal within a few weeks, less if he stayed in bed like the doctor had ordered.

Kurogane probed the flesh around the shoulder, looking for other weaknesses. His years in Tomoyo's services had taught him a rough form of field medicine—he could identify physical wounds and patch them up until the healers arrived. But this country's medical care was centuries ahead of Nihon's, the shoulder brace much more refined than anything his country had to offer. What little knowledge he had was useless here. "Does it still hurt?"

"It's . . . A little bit."

Kurogane ghosted his fingertips across the swollen spot, trying not to hurt the boy even as he measured how tender the flesh there was. When the boy shifted uncomfortably, he withdrew his hand. "The doctor prescribed some painkillers for you to take with your dinner. Do you want to eat now, or later?"

He shook his head. "I can't eat. My throat hurts too much."

Kurogane sighed. "Do you think you can take the pills, at least?"

"I don't need them."

Kurogane's eyebrows slanted down. "The princess wouldn't want you to hide your pain. Not even now."

Syaoran flinched. It was a low blow and they both knew it. But the boy's response still managed to surprise him. "I'm not a child. I don't need to be taken care of."

Kurogane's hands dropped to his sides. "Fine. Go wash up. The mage took the princess out to stretch her legs. They'll be back soon."

The boy obeyed his commands wordlessly, slinking off to the bathroom. When the door closed, Kurogane walked over to the kitchen and picked up the orange bottle on the countertop. After almost a minute of trying to figure out the childproofed cap, he unscrewed the lid and dumped two pills into his hand.

He set them on a small plate and walked over to the plastic bowl where the mage stored the fruits from the grocery store. Kurogane picked a banana from the side of the bowl and peeled it from the bottom up. He slid the oblong mass into a bowl and mashed it up so no large chunks remained. Then he returned his attention to the plate with the pills, crushing them so the powdery substance inside spilled out. He dumped the white powder into the bowl of bananas and mixed them up so the bitter taste would blend in.

When Syaoran came out of the bathroom, he held the bowl out in offering. "This is the kind of thing my mother ate when she was too sick for solid food," he said, not allowing the boy to get a word in. "I mixed your medicine in with this so you won't have to taste it. Now eat."

The boy took the bowl uncertainly, meeting his gaze for the first time since the incident. The tension that had been coiled up in him for the past two days relaxed.

Syaoran cradled the bowl to his chest, accepting the offering. "Thank you."

"It's my job to take care of you, whether you like it or not," Kurogane said. "So stop acting like your life means nothing to me."


	5. Pressing Silence

Chapter Five

The relief was immediate.

Syaoran swallowed another spoonful of mashed banana, surprised at how violent his hunger had grown in his self-neglect. Being only half-solid, this food was much easier to swallow than the bagels that had tempted him earlier. The faint trace of bitterness left behind from the crushed-up pills took no joy from the meal. If anything, he was more grateful for the promise of a reprieve than the relief from his nagging hunger.

He felt . . . better. Both emotionally and physically. Until he'd nudged his door open, he hadn't been sure he'd be able to face the ninja again. Until he'd spoken, the weaker part of his mind had urged him to retreat, to isolate himself and avoid further damage.

He was glad he'd ignored that impulse. Glad he'd set things right—or as right as things could be, given this dismal world. And equally relieved at Kurogane's quiet acceptance.

There had been a moment, when he'd felt the ninja's fingertips brushing across his shoulder, that he'd been certain Kurogane would shove him into a wall again, certain he'd end up with a new set of bruises, if not another fractured bone. But Kurogane had done no such thing.

Not being hurt, having someone offer him relief from the pain—it was the closest thing to genuine affection he'd received in years.

He finished the bowl of bananas and set it on his dresser, planning to take it back to the kitchen during his nightly food run. He laid down on the bed, lacking much else to do, except perhaps to reread the texts he'd already half-memorized._ I should bring those back to the library, _he thought, closing his eyes.

The blessed numbness brought on by the painkillers left him drowsy. Without even meaning to, he fell asleep.

His dreams were disjointed things, fragments of the Other's memories blurring together with the fresher, sharper memories of this world. Replayed over and over again were Fai's unnatural frowns, Mokona's floppy ears lying flat against her back, Sakura's empty gaze in the arena. The only face that ever popped up with anything remotely like approval or acceptance was Kurogane's, and even those dreams were tinged with the sense that those fleeting moments could be stolen away from him like all the rest.

Syaoran woke when he felt the patch of warmth across his face. His eyes snapped open, body convulsing as if he'd woken to a bucket of cold water. Unwilling to believe his senses, he sat up, eyes darting to the tiny rectangle of a window above his dresser. Sure enough, sunlight streamed in through the narrow opening, bright enough to leave afterimages printed across his vision. Horror washed through him.

On his dresser sat the uneaten bagels from last night. He stared at the meager rations, arms coiling around his abdomen as he registered the seed of hunger growing in his stomach. There was no way he was going to make it through the day with those alone.

He'd have to leave his room. He'd have to face the others. What little that remained in his stomach curdled at the thought.

Syaoran sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. A steady throbbing grew in his shoulder, and he knew the painkillers had worn off while he'd slept.

He passed the first few hours much the same as he usually did—rereading borrowed books and laying in bed. He ate the bagels bit by bit, letting the stale bread slide down his raw throat. When those dwindled, he stacked the bowl from last night on top of the plate and brought the stack out to the kitchen, keeping his head down. With every step, he felt the pressure of his companions' eyes crawling across the back of his neck.

He set the bowl on the countertop and turned the faucet on, letting the water warm before pulling a washcloth from the cupboard. From there, he rinsed and cleaned out the dishes, until they reflected the dull fluorescent lighting. With a clean towel, he dried them and put them away in the cupboards. All this was done with a sense of duty. Even if he seldom abandoned the sanctuary of his bedroom, he could lighten the load he burdened the others with. He could make his existence less of an irritant to them.

Out of a vague compulsion to please the others, he washed the rest of the dishes and put them away, then wiped down the counter, scrubbing away long-ignored grease spots. Boredom had tormented him so long, even chores held some appeal. Without even realizing it, he'd cleaned the entire kitchen.

He felt a pair of eyes on his back and caught Fai staring at him. The vampire glanced away before their eyes even met, but there remained a tension in Fai's shoulders, as if Syaoran's lingering presence chafed at him.

Syaoran hurried to the fridge and gathered some supplies for an evening meal, hoping he wouldn't have to intrude into the living room again. For the last time that day, he closed and locked his door.

* * *

Kurogane stared up at the ceiling, identifying shapes and patterns in the pocked surface. Silence pervaded the apartment, broken only by the occasional groan of the plumbing or noise from another apartment. Almost as quiet as a peaceful night in Nihon.

Unease pooled in his stomach. Their little group had visited all kinds of worlds, some peaceful, some not. Kurogane had always kept his guard up, even when the magician had insisted on relaxing, even when the kids had acted lighthearted and happy.

The fact that none of them were able to relax set him on edge. This wasn't the natural silence of a night at Shirasagi Castle. This was the unfamiliar, disquieting silence of tension, and he hated it.

This was only made worse by the fact that he knew at least one other person in the apartment was still awake. In the other room, muffled by paper-thin walls, Syaoran shifted, his mattress creaking as he abandoned it. Kurogane heard the footsteps ghosting across the cement floor, a book sliding across the table, paper rustling like dry leaves.

Kurogane waited, alert to every sound, every shift. He'd known for weeks how restless the boy was, how he woke in the middle of the night as if it was the most natural time to move about. Up until a few nights ago, these patterns had been irregular, occurring sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes only in the hours before dawn. But now, like a soldier in training, the kid controlled his sleep cycles, getting up at the same time every night, the first time an hour after everyone went to bed, and the second before the magician woke up. Every night, the kid would read for a while, sometimes pacing, if he was too anxious to read. Then he would pause, staying silent for several minutes, before unlocking his door and creeping into the kitchen.

Always the same routine, ever since their encounter two days before their last chess match. As if the boy was too afraid to face them, instead developing these strange habits with the express purpose of remaining unseen.

It was maddening.

And worse, it worked. Kurogane had seen the boy _once_ since their post-chess-match talk five days ago, when the boy had cleaned the kitchen.

The apartment had fallen silent again. Kurogane waited, breathing slowly, keeping control of himself.

A minute passed, and the kid unlocked his door. More faint footsteps allowed Kurogane to track the boy's progress as he moved toward the kitchen. The refrigerator door came open. Glass jars _clinked _together. Fruit rolled across the glass shelves, only to be caught by reflex. _Even though his reaction time is slower than the other kid's, _Kurogane thought, still listening. A cupboard ghosted open. Plastic bags crinkled. A drawer rumbled open.

Kurogane glanced over at the vampire lying facedown on the bed across from his. The idiot always rolled onto his stomach once he fell asleep, no matter what position he'd started in. Kurogane supposed that meant he was out until morning.

The ninja stood, the springs in his mattress creaking. He walked over to his door and opened it. Unlocked, he didn't have to go through the noisy motions of turning the little latch above the knob.

The kid didn't notice him. Kurogane stood silent in the doorway, watching the boy move through his nightly rituals as a child might peer downstairs to observe a conversation between their parents.

The kid busied himself making sandwiches. A stack of four sat on the countertop, all made primarily of lettuce or peanut butter. _Things that will keep, _Kurogane realized, eyebrows coming together. _Just like what he made _that _night. _

The thought raised hairs on his arms. After the initial adjustment period, traveling between dimensions had become routine: scan the world for feathers, deal with any immediate threats, get some money for that world and make living arrangements, then retrieve the princess's feathers however possible. Simple. Routine.

Not anymore. Not now, with the kid acting so erratic. The fissure in their group was deepening, spreading infinitesimally wider with each passing day. Something had to give.

Syaoran smeared another glob of peanut butter onto a piece of bread and set the knife in the sink. His movements were precise, cautious. Like he was disarming a bomb.

He plucked several plastic bags from a box and started wrapping the sandwiches in them. Kurogane stepped forward, deliberately announcing his presence with the volume of his step. Syaoran flinched twice, the first in reaction to the sound, the second in reaction to the pain the first movement had caused in his fractured shoulder. The boy turned just enough to see him, then turned away, hurrying through his nightly ritual.

"You're up late," Kurogane said, brushing a hand along his arm to flatten the hairs that were sticking up.

"I'm sorry for waking you."

He shrugged. "I was already up."

"Oh."

The kid didn't seem inclined to say anything else, so Kurogane spoke again. "You're up a lot at night."

"It depends on the night."

"Don't lie to me."

The kid flinched, turning toward him with an armful of sandwiches. All the blood had slithered out of his face, making the dark rings around his eyes much more prominent. His eyes were round, like saucers, the pupils dilated so only a thin ring of brown was visible around them. His shoulders, both the broken one and the normal one, were rigid, bones visible under the skin.

Fury pulsed through Kurogane's veins. Everything in his field of vision took on a reddish tinge, as if a thin layer of blood covered his eyes. "You're supposed to be taking better care of yourself than this."

The boy's eyes flickered to the bedroom doors. Kurogane modulated his voice so he wouldn't wake the others. "Do you actually _eat _what you bring into your room, or are you just keeping up appearances?"

Shock crossed the kid's face. "Of course I eat it. I just . . . I don't like to leave my room during the day."

"Why not?"

Syaoran hesitated.

Kurogane crossed the last few meters between them and grabbed the kid by the arm. The kid's head shot up, eyes going impossibly wider. "Tell me the truth," Kurogane said. "Why won't you come out during the day?"

Syaoran hesitated again, then looked down at his feet. He mumbled, "I'm scared."

Kurogane released the boy's arm, hands dropping to his side. "Of what?"

Silence. That damned, pressing silence, just like the disquieting silence he'd endured all night.

"Afraid of _what_? Me?"

He saw the defensive inward curve of Syaoran's shoulders.

"You don't—" He broke off, trying to regain control of his fury. It was so close to the surface these days. When he finally managed to rein it in, he found the boy staring up at him, fear hidden behind a mask of curiosity. "You don't have to be afraid. I won't hurt you."

The boy sighed. "There's no way you'll be able to stop hurting me," he said, his voice distant, far from the timid whisper he'd used thus far. He cradled his dinner closer to his chest and stepped out of the way. Just as he opened his door, he said, "So don't even try."


	6. Collapse

Chapter Six

Time limped forward, like a dog with hip problems.

Syaoran didn't bother taking his pain pills. The ache in his shoulder was no more than a mild annoyance with the inactivity between chess matches, and the pain of his throat had nearly faded in the week since the injury. Taking medicine for it would've been superfluous.

He didn't eat much, either. At first, the rawness of his throat was a decent excuse not to eat. But a shift in the group dynamic kept him from visiting the kitchen as often as he liked, and that shift was named Kurogane.

Previously, the ninja had shared a room with Fai, due to the lack of space in their apartment. These living arrangements matched those that had existed prior to the Other's betrayal. But after their encounter two nights ago, Kurogane had taken to sleeping on the couch, right beside the path Syaoran took to sneak into the kitchen, which might not have been so awful if the ninja didn't wake at every soft whimper of the door opening. The first night, Syaoran had endured it, guessing some disagreement with Fai had prompted the ninja to sleep in the living room. On the second night, when Kurogane woke during his first infiltration of the kitchen, Syaoran made extra preparations for the following day and skipped his early morning mission.

As usual, he miscalculated the amount of food he should've gotten. By noon the following day, he ate the last crackers from the smuggled passage and realized he wasn't going to eat again until Fai and Sakura went to bed.

Hours went by, his hunger slowly growing, his thirst a razor's edge against the painful knot in his stomach. By the time Fai ushered Sakura into her bed for the night—an hour later than _usual_—Syaoran's extremities trembled with weakness.

_I have to get up, _he thought, tumbling off his bed and getting to his feet. The world swam, the faint light peeking under his door too intense for his eyes. Kurogane was still awake, then.

He hesitated at the door, then unlocked it. The seed of hunger had sprouted and grown out of his control. Anything to keep it at bay was worth it, even if that meant facing one of his traveling companions.

Kurogane looked up when he entered. Immediately, a look of shock overtook his expression; clearly he hadn't expected Syaoran to tread this far while he was still awake. The older man's surprise emboldened Syaoran; he choked out a weak "good evening" before hurrying into the kitchen.

He moved quickly, stealing from the cupboards what he could—a box of cereal, another package of salty crackers, a couple bottles of water, a small jar of pickles. He set these all aside as rations for tomorrow, then got to work looking for things he could eat _now_. The refrigerator yielded fruit, cheese, and other things he only enjoyed in the hour or so after these nightly trips. He set these out on the counter, then started preparing them for consumption. The cheese would dry up the fastest—he had to eat that first.

With trembling hands, he pulled a knife from one of the drawers and set it on the countertop. He unwrapped the block of cheddar, then set it on the cutting board, cleaving thin slices off the ends to eat. The smell drifted up to his nose, familiar enough to send a painful pang of yearning through his desolate stomach.

And suddenly, it was too much. Seeing the knife shake in his weakened hands, smelling something so mundane yet feeling such vicious hunger, trying to focus through the haze in his brain. He had just enough presence of mind to set the knife down before his knees buckled under him.

"Kid?"

Syaoran barely heard the word, barely heard the footsteps that followed, but instinct prompted him to curl up into a ball, to protect himself from the impact of his own humiliation. His knees continued to shake even as he pressed them to his face.

He felt a light pressure on his good shoulder. "Kid?"

His mind cleared somewhat. His eyelids slid open, then squeezed shut as the light assaulted them. A steady throbbing grew in his temples.

Kurogane started giving out orders. "Stay down. Keep your head between your knees, it'll help with the dizziness."

It took him several seconds to obey, dazed as he was. By then, Kurogane had knelt down beside him with a rectangular package. _The crackers, _Syaoran thought distantly. _But those are for tomorrow. _He waved them away.

"You have to eat," the ninja said. "Now. Don't cry."

"I'm _not_," he said, startled. But when he reached up to feel his face, his fingertips came back moist. He blinked, confused.

"Eat." Kurogane unwrapped the top of the package and offered it to him. Uncertainly, Syaoran took it. The smell of salt filled his nostrils, reawakening the raging hunger he'd felt a moment ago. Without a second thought, he jammed two crackers in his mouth. The taste spread out across his tongue, so sharp he almost choked.

"Easy. That's good, just take it easy." Kurogane lifted his hand up to the countertop and pulled one of the water bottles down. "Drink something."

"I'm not thirsty."

"You're dehydrated. Drink." Kurogane unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to him. Hesitantly, Syaoran set aside the crackers and took the bottle, hiding his eyes behind his mop of hair to conceal the tears he'd apparently let slip.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Kurogane stood up, towering over him like the looming buildings of this wretched city. One of the drawers came open with a rumble. A moment later, Syaoran felt a washcloth probing at the moisture around his eyes. "Just relax," Kurogane said, wiping the tears from his cheeks as if they were made of acid. Syaoran set the water bottle in his lap and reached for the cloth, shame taking the place of the momentary chaos. The ninja took his wrist and guided his hand back to crackers. "_Eat_, or I will shove that whole package down your throat."

Syaoran managed a weak laugh. "But then I won't have anything to eat tomorrow."

"Don't be _stupid_. I'll knock down your door to make sure you eat, you got that?"

For some reason, the whole situation was absurdly funny to Syaoran; he started laughing, unable to lift the food to his lips. He clutched his cramping side, doubling over. The movement jarred something loose within him, and his humor turned to nausea. He gagged, struggling to keep what little he'd eaten down.

He failed, barely making it to the garbage can before he threw up. Even as his stomach heaved, his legs gave out again.

Something warm wrapped around his abdomen, holding him up. He retched, this time bringing up only bile. His mouth burned. "Sorry," he whispered, more uncontrolled tears running down his face. He wasn't sure _why _he was crying—nothing had actually _upset _him. Perhaps it was the stress getting to him, or perhaps it was a biological reaction to the failure of his body. With renewed ferocity, he scrubbed the tears away from his face.

"Are you done?" Kurogane asked.

He nodded.

The ninja pulled him away from the garbage can and set him down on the floor so he was leaning against the wooden cupboards. "We're going to try this again."

He opened his eyes, startled to see the same package of crackers he'd abandoned a moment ago. He took it, nibbling the edge of one cracker to get the taste of bile out of his throat. A moment later, Kurogane handed him the bottle of water.

Several minutes passed. Syaoran paced himself, not wanting to repeat the embarrassing display. Kurogane stayed at his side, keeping one hand on the gap between his shoulder blades as if to keep him from drifting away. As he filled the hole in his stomach, Syaoran relaxed enough to meet Kurogane's eyes for the first time in almost a week.

The expression there surprised him. It wasn't irritation, as he'd expected, nor was it scorn. It was something he'd only seldom seen through his clone's eyes, something that put a lump in his throat. He looked away. "I . . . I'm sorry if I troubled you."

"It's my job to take care of you."

He shook his head. "No, it's not. And it shouldn't have to be."

Kurogane's eyes narrowed, but rather than commanding him to take better care of himself, he sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Syaoran mourned the loss of contact—after seven years stuck in a tube, every touch was a new experience, a sensation that grounded him to this world in a way his other senses couldn't. All that time, he'd been unable to touch, unable to feel what his clone felt, despite hearing and seeing everything the Other heard and saw.

In times of suffering, that lack of sensation had been a relief. But mostly, it had been a curse.

"Can you stand?" Kurogane asked.

Syaoran took another gulp of water and grasped the edge of the countertop for support. His legs wobbled under his weight, not having yet received the benefit of the nourishment. Kurogane rose with him, extending a hand as if to help him.

He stood there a moment, closing his eyes as he steadied himself. He exhaled slowly.

"You all right?"

"I'm fine." He opened his eyes in time to see something move in his peripheral vision. A fraction of a second later, Kurogane's hand came down on his head, fingers weaving through his hair. The touch startled him; his body went rigid.

Uncertainly, Kurogane pulled away. Syaoran looked longingly at the hand as it disappeared into the ninja's pocket, mourning the warmth of the touch. Kurogane half-turned, looking toward the couch. After a moment, he spoke. "You can eat out here. No one's going to stop you."

"I . . . Yeah, I know."

"Hey, I mean it. You've been holed up in your room too long. It's time to come out."

Syaoran opened his mouth, then closed it. Kurogane had heard all his arguments—it did no good to repeat them when the ninja wasn't going to budge. So to appease him, Syaoran agreed. "I guess."

"Good." Kurogane walked over to the couch and turned the TV up. Syaoran turned toward the countertop, still overflowing with perishables, and started preparing something more substantial than half a package of crackers. By the time he was finished, he had a plate of sliced cheese and fruit, and a bowl of the caramel-coated ice-cream Fai had purchased last time he'd gone out.

A small part of him felt guilty for dipping into the ice-cream without permission. The rest of him just felt hungry.

He brought his dinner over to the living room—not a far walk in this tiny apartment—and sat down on the couch a few feet from Kurogane. Soft murmurs from the television underscored his dinner, like background music in a movie. Syaoran ate, sinking deeper into the cushions as he relaxed.

Something had changed when he'd collapsed, some fundamental constant between him and the ninja. The razor's edge they'd been balancing on for the past week had dulled. It wasn't painful to be around Kurogane like it was to be around Fai or Sakura.

It was . . . nice. Safe.


	7. To the Library

Chapter Seven

Fai rolled onto his back, surfacing from his nightmares as a drowned corpse might surface from a lake. Faint sunlight streamed in through the window, abolishing the dusky fragments of his dreams. Or perhaps it was his sharpened eyesight that pierced the gloomy room, not the sunlight. Infinity was a gloomy place, after all.

He sat up, hand going automatically to the patch over his eye. It felt strange on his face.

Outside, faint even to his sharp ears, a pigeon took flight.

Kurogane's bed was empty, which didn't surprise Fai a bit. The ninja stayed up late and woke early, never completely letting his guard down. The noise of the pipes was usually enough to pull him from his bed at night.

Fai got up, changed into a new outfit, and stepped outside, figuring it was time to make breakfast. He pasted a smile on his face(_always a fake smile, especially now, broken by Tokyo)_, and looked over to the couch, expecting to find Kurogane wide awake.

What he saw instead froze him where he stood.

Kurogane slept, his arm hanging over the side of the couch. From the lack of tension in his features, Fai guessed it was the deepest sleep he'd allowed himself in weeks.

But that wasn't what shocked him. What shocked him was the boy curled up against the ninja's other side, sound asleep, seeming perfectly at ease out in the open despite not appearing for more than a few minutes each day.

Fai fought to remain standing against the flood of guilt trying to sweep him away. Logically, he knew that this Syaoran had only been trying to help in Tokyo, but because he wore the same face as the other one, Fai had trouble separating them in his thoughts. This boy reminded him too sharply of the boy who'd ripped out his eye, of the boy who'd smiled and laughed and searched for Sakura's feathers. This Syaoran's face stirred both unjustified anger and justified grief in Fai, but all he could do to control it was to avoid situations where he had to look at him.

Fai sighed softly, and Kurogane's eyes flashed open, head snapping up as he searched for threats. When he realized they weren't under attack, he relaxed.

"Good morning, Kurogane," Fai said, the ninja's full name still sounding unnatural on his tongue. Kurogane's eyebrows slanted down, and he turned away without a word.

Fai supposed that was for the best.

* * *

Syaoran woke to the sound of crashing pans.

His eyes flashed open, head swimming with disorientation. The sound seemed too loud, as if his bedroom door had been removed while he'd been asleep. But as his mind cleared, he realized the light was all wrong for his room. The sunlight should be falling in front of the doorway, not across his eyes, not until later in the day.

When he felt something shift beside him, he realized why everything seemed so out of place.

In an instant, he was on his feet, almost slipping in his haste to separate himself from the ninja he'd evidently curled up against during the night. "Sorry!" Syaoran squeaked, back rigid as he bowed. Kurogane's face filled with a sort of confusion.

Unable to say anything else, Syaoran picked up the remnants of last night's meal and hurried to his bedroom. On his way there, he felt a pair of eyes crawl across the back of his neck. When he turned, a flash of blond hair alerted him to Fai's presence. _So that's why there's so much noise. _

Amidst the guilt and embarrassment, he felt a small pang of relief for the fact that Fai's breakfast preparations had roused him when they had. Much longer, and Kurogane would've probably grown irritated with his presence—and getting on Kurogane's nerves when he was the only one who acknowledged his existence was the last thing Syaoran wanted to do.

He closed and locked his bedroom door behind him, eyes falling across the broken hinge. He had a vivid flash of _that_ night, of the brutal vibrations of the doorframe as Kurogane's fists came down on the other side, and shuddered. _I can't believe he didn't kill me then, _Syaoran thought. _He could have. So easily._

Disquieted, he set his rations for the day on top of his dresser, under the lamp with the burnt-out bulb. After a brief hesitation, he closed the curtains hanging over the diminutive window. It seemed . . . fitting, somehow, that his room should be as dark as the world they'd landed in. The weak winter sunlight would've done little to ease his mind, anyway. Even on the rare days when the sun was exposed, the sky seemed too small, like a cage.

He changed clothes, freeing himself from the outfit he'd worn yesterday. As he rifled through his drawers, his eyes fell across a disconcerting number of black outfits. Perhaps waking up to sunshine instead of the bleak dimness he usually woke to had jarred something in his mind, allowing him to see clearly for the first time in weeks. The dusky light, the somber clothes—none of it had bothered him before.

Nonetheless, he donned black jeans and a matching shirt, being careful to manipulate the cloth gently over his broken shoulder.

Invigorated by the brief touch of sunlight, he emptied his backpack and started loading it up with overdue books. He had some cash to spare after the last chess match, left over after the bills had been taken care of. Given that he wasn't in the best shape to replace the money again soon, he was a bit hesitant to spend it, but . . .

_What else are you going to do with it? _he asked himself. _Save it for the next world?_

With a sigh, he tucked the cash into his pocket and slung his backpack over his good shoulder. He might've been carrying a bag of bricks for how much the books weighed.

He abandoned his bedroom, keeping his head down, like a soldier under fire. When Kurogane looked at him, he managed a quick explanation. "I'm going to the library to see if I can find anything interesting."

"You shouldn't be carrying that much weight."

He blinked. "Huh?"

Kurogane moved as if to stand, then settled back into the couch cushions. "You're going to hurt your other shoulder if you put that much weight on it."

"Oh." He frowned. "I think I'll be okay."

Kurogane sighed and turned away. "Be careful. If you slip and fall, you could freeze to death."

The concern left Syaoran speechless for a moment. He swallowed thickly. "Thank you," he croaked, edging toward the door. When no one said anything else, he ducked out into the stairwell attached to their basement apartment and ascended to the main level.

The lobby was brighter than their cheap apartment, if still a little shabbier than most lobbies. Smoke-stained curtains let in rays of sunshine, which played off the swells of dust in the air. A fluorescent light flickered above him, the fixture still on the fritz, like it had been when they'd arrived here. As it would presumably remain after they left. One of the employees sat at the front desk, a security guard, judging by his badge. He sipped from a Styrofoam cup of coffee, gazing into the nicotine-tinted windows as if they held some sort of mystery.

Syaoran hurried through the lobby and out the door, wincing when he felt the biting cold against his bare skin. _I should get a jacket while I'm out, _he thought, rubbing his arms to smooth the hairs that had risen there.

It wasn't a far walk to the library. Like the Hanshin Republic, the buildings were so densely packed, it was more practical to walk between destinations than try to find a ride. Unlike the Hanshin Republic, however, walking presented grave dangers. In the three blocks between the Ephemeral Apartments and the library, Syaoran saw perhaps a dozen people wearing the red bandanas he'd come to associate with criminal activity. With few exceptions, he'd always crossed this part of town with the others; they had to go this way to reach the chess arena. But now he was alone, and the figures that had only stirred a mild wariness in him before propelled his legs forward faster than usual.

_They're just street gangs, _he told himself. _You have magic. If they come after you, you can fight them off. _

They didn't come after him, and after a while, Syaoran convinced himself no one was likely to attack him in broad daylight.

Eventually, he reached the library and relaxed. This place, at least, was safe.

"Excuse me," he said to the librarian, pulling the stack of books from his bag. "Can you tell me where I can drop these off?"

"Right here," the woman said, gesturing vaguely to the counter as the phone shrilled. Syaoran started stacking books there, eyes falling across titles he'd read half a dozen times in his self-enforced captivity. As the librarian started scanning the labels with the little red laser, her lips twisted into a frown. "These are overdue. You'll have to pay a fine."

He pulled the wad of money from his pocket. "How much?"

She tallied up the cost and said a number. Syaoran gave her the indicated amount, unable to judge how expensive it was with as little knowledge as he had of this world. _They must be almost a week overdue now, _he thought, handing her the money. She gave him a handful of coins as change, and Syaoran wondered why they didn't make the metal coins worth more, given the cost it must've taken to mint them.

Once that was done, he headed over to the shelves to procure some new reading material.

Apparently, some of his clone's interests had worn off on him, because he spent the next six hours engrossed in historical texts. What he couldn't finish, he added to the stack of books intended to bring back, and what he did, he returned to the shelves. By the time he was done, he'd amassed a collection of books half again the size of the ones he'd returned this morning, and the edge of the sun was touching the western horizon.

"Come again soon," the librarian said as he'd left.

He smiled a little at the irony—a stranger showing more enthusiasm for his presence than most of his traveling companions—as he walked out into the cold. _Right. I was going to buy a jacket. _He took a moment to assess his remaining funds, judged that he'd probably have enough, then started looking around for someplace that sold winter apparel.

He wandered longer than he'd planned, window-shopping. None of the stores really looked promising, and while he considered going into one of those towering places that housed a different store on each level, he didn't really want to spend the extra time now that it was getting dark.

Syaoran sighed, giving up for the night. He could go looking for something to wear next time he went out. _If I even leave the apartment over the next few weeks, _he thought bitterly.

He'd drifted farther away from the Ephemeral Apartments in his search; his journey back was going to be bitter and cold. It didn't help that the one person he really wanted to acknowledge him probably hadn't even noticed his absence. After all, Sakura hadn't been in the room when he'd given his hurried explanation. _Not that she would wait for me anyway. Or that she _should_._

His eyes roved emptily over the cracks in the sidewalk. Even when he heard someone shouting, it took him a moment to realize the words were aimed at him.

"Hey you!"

He looked up, blinking. His pace slowed automatically as he met the eyes of the speaker, and he looked behind him to see if he'd made a mistake. Surely, no one here would want to talk to _him_, least of all this rail-thin man with dyed red hair.

"Yeah, _you_. You're the kid from the chess tournaments, ain't ya?" the speaker called.

"I am." _And I don't like where this is going. _

"Heard your team was doing pretty well. Thought I'd come see your skills for myself."

Syaoran hesitated. "I don't really think—"

The red-haired man dropped the cigarette he'd been holding and stamped the embers out under his feet. Syaoran looked at the stump with distaste. "Be a pal," the man said. "Show a guy a few tricks."

"I don't know any tricks."

The man rolled his eyes, dismissing this. Syaoran retreated half a step, torn between fighting back and bolting for the apartment complex.

"Little brat thinks he's some sort of tough guy," trilled a female voice. Syaoran looked over to see two more figures flake off from the wall where the red-haired man had been lounging a few moments ago.

_I really, _really _don't like where this is going, _he thought. "I'm not fighting today."

"Sounds pretty stubborn," said the thickset figure. "Maybe you should convince him otherwise, Jet."

The red-haired man grinned. "Yeah, maybe." He sauntered forward, hands burying themselves in his pockets. "What d'you say, brat? How 'bout we have an impromptu chess match right here?" He slid something shiny out of his pocket, and Syaoran squinted, trying to identify the odd shape. It looked heavy, almost like a misshapen pipe, or a hammer with a round head. As the man raised the weapon above his head, the moonlight caught in the crevices, throwing the odd shape into relief.

Syaoran fell into a fighting stance, and the wrench came down.


	8. Ravaged Battlefield

Chapter Eight

"I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight, Kurogane."

"Finally," the ninja muttered, repressing a surge of irritation. He hadn't thought the mage could make his real name as annoying as the nicknames.

One of the few times he'd been wrong, he supposed.

"Goodnight, Fai-san," Sakura said softly, her leg brace creaking as she crossed between the kitchen sink and the cupboards. She'd volunteered to help with dishes tonight, since the mage had made dinner. Or that was her reasoning anyway, despite the fact that she usually fled to her room as soon as she finished her dinner.

Kurogane rose from the couch and walked over to the kitchen to help put away dishes. Unlike Fai, Sakura was unlikely to tease him about taking on extra chores. "Here, I got it."

"No, that's fine," the princess said, edging away from him. "I've got it."

He frowned and picked a plate from the soapy water, rinsing and drying it before depositing it in the cupboard above his head.

He supposed this was as good a time as any. "So, how come you suddenly decided to leave your room?"

Sakura paused, then shrugged.

Kurogane tried a different route. "Is there something bothering you?" _Besides the obvious? _

She frowned, her face losing what little animation it had held a moment ago. "No. Nothing."

_Patience, _he told himself. _Maybe she doesn't respond well to direct questions. _He was quiet for a moment, trying to think of a way to draw the information out of her. He knew something was bothering her besides what had happened in Tokyo, and given that she'd decided to come out of her room _today_, while Syaoran was out, Kurogane had a pretty good idea what it was about. "You've been holed up in your room a lot lately. The mage is probably worried about you."

"Fai and I talk every night."

_I know that, _he wanted to say. He held his tongue, planning out his words before he said them. "The boy's probably worried about you, too."

A line of tension formed along Sakura's jaw. She stacked several bowls and shoved them into the cupboard.

_So that's it, then. _Kurogane pressed his advantage. A chasm had opened up between all of them. The longer it was left alone, the wider it spread.

If their little band fell apart now, they'd never make it through this perilous world.

"Look," he said, abandoning the indirect approach. "I know everyone's gone through a lot of shit since Tokyo, but you're really not helping anything by hiding out by yourself. You need to talk to him."

Sakura frowned. "This Syaoran—"

"Why do you have to call him that?" Kurogane snapped, glad the kid wasn't around to eavesdrop on this. "Why does it have to be 'this Syaoran?' Why can't you just call him 'Syaoran?'"

A grave look flashed through the princess's eyes then, a look he knew from years in Tomoyo-hime's service. It was a look that meant he wasn't going to get a straight answer, and the vague response he _would _get would be too cryptic to satisfy his curiosity.

Sakura set down the fork she'd been drying and turned to him. "He's not Syaoran."

Fury twisted through his abdomen, coiling like a spring. Before he could act on his anger, the princess turned away and hobbled back to her room.

* * *

The wrench swung within inches of his face, so close Syaoran could hear the air parting around it. He threw himself to the side, adrenaline flooding his veins, speeding his reaction time.

The red-haired man sneered. "Not so tough without the rest of your team, are you?"

"I don't want to fight you," Syaoran said, trying to keep his voice level despite the panic surging through his veins.

"Why not? Nothing more than a pawn to your chess master?" The man swung the wrench again, nearly striking Syaoran's broken shoulder. His sleeve fluttered with the glancing blow, and he took a quarter of a second to think about how lucky he'd been to avoid the debilitating impact.

"Swing harder, Jet!" the female voice egged him on, and Syaoran caught a glimpse of her cheeks, flushed with excitement.

The red-haired man—Jet, the woman had called him—lunged forward again. This time, Syaoran was able to analyze the angle of his attack, the too-wide arc of his arms. _Kurogane-san would see a blow like this coming from a mile away, _he thought, dodging to the side. His hand snaked out, fumbling for Jet's wrist. If he could get a good grip . . . If he could damage the ligaments enough . . . The man would have to let go of the wrench. _That would level the playing field. _

Another swing, this one closer to Jet's body, more refined. Syaoran jerked back, inhaling harshly as he tried to bring oxygen to his muscles. His hand still flailed emptily through the air, his fingers only encountering the stiff fabric of the man's sleeves. _I'm not close enough, _he realized, faltering.

In the split second when he hesitated, Jet lunged forward and snatched his arm; his reach was several inches longer than Syaoran's.

Syaoran raised his leg, muscle memory kicking in at last. His heel came forward, the bones and muscles aligning just the way Seishirou had taught the Other, so long ago. Sensing his intentions, Jet dropped his wrist and reeled back, out of the way.

Logic dictated that he should run while his opponent was off balance, but something held him in place. There was something subtly _off_ about the whole situation. Something that twisted in his gut like a dagger.

That spark of intuition gave him enough time to react as a pipe came sailing toward his face.

His legs collapsed under him, keeping the metal cylinder from crashing into his temple. Instinct drove him back to his feet almost as fast, even as his logical mind processed what had happened.

While the red-head had occupied him, the thickset man who'd been lounging nearby had come up behind him with a metal pipe. Syaoran hadn't noticed it in the man's hands before, had subconsciously eliminated that man as a threat, but as the pipe came crashing into the wall beside the spot he'd stood a moment ago, he reevaluated the danger.

Meanwhile, the blond woman shoved Jet back into the fray. Syaoran saw a flash of moonlight on steel before something slammed into his eye.

Everything went white for a split second. Agony flared in his head, and his broken shoulder hit the sidewalk. The jolt brought him out of his stupor.

He had hoped for a diplomatic resolution or, failing that, a painless victory. Now, all he hoped for was a quick escape.

His ears rang after the impact, and for some reason, his vision had gone blurry. Purely by instinct, he threw a kick to the hand holding the bludgeon.

In his condition, he might've imagined the sound of metal hitting concrete, might've spawned the song from his much-abused head. Even so, it spurred his legs forward, away from the confrontation, away from the persistent throbbing in his temples. Shouts pierced the air behind him, shrill and loud, like sirens. Something—_the pipe?_—clanged against the sidewalk.

Syaoran ran until his lungs burned, crossing streets and dodging traffic. When he could run no further, he slowed to an unsteady walk. Even through the haze in his brain, he recognized his surroundings—he'd grown familiar with this section of the city, having spent many days staring out his tiny bedroom window at its shops. In the dark, with his body still flooded with adrenaline, the shadows seemed to spill out of the alleyways, stretching out like the hands of monsters to snatch him into the darkness.

When he finally reached the glass doors of the Ephemeral Apartments, he sighed in relief. He wasn't safe—he was _never _safe—but it was a vast improvement from Infinity's dusky streets.

The nice thing about living in the basement was that there wasn't far to walk between the front doors and the creaking steel door of their apartment. Syaoran fished the key out of his backpack(noting with some surprise that he hadn't dropped his bag during the fight) and unlocked the door.

With a feeling like walking into a ravaged battlefield, Syaoran stepped inside.


	9. It's Not All Right

Chapter Nine

Kurogane looked up when the door opened, taking a deep breath for the first time in hours. He'd known the kid liked to read, but spending an entire day at the library seemed excessive.

Assuming that was the reason the kid had left in the first place.

Kurogane set aside the washcloth he'd been using to wipe the counter(how the mage had talked him into _cleaning_, he had no idea) and turned, sensing the kid's familiar presence through the steel door. He was about to look down again, pretend the day trip was normal, when he saw Syaoran's face.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Syaoran flinched, fingers tightening around the key in his hand. With mechanical movements, he slipped the key into the open pocket of his backpack and zipped it. Then, like an awkward teenage girl displaying a new, uncomfortable dress, the boy turned to face him.

Deep purple streaks marred the side of Syaoran's face, concentrated around his eye. His eyelid was swollen shut. For one instant, Kurogane had an awful recollection of the magician's empty eye socket, but then a narrow slit opened up between the kid's eyelids, revealing the bloodshot sclera of his eye.

Kurogane released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, then dropped the dishrag on the counter. "What. Happened?"

"I got into a fight." Syaoran shifted uneasily, as if he was afraid of the reaction his words would provoke, but more than anything, Kurogane was baffled.

"When? With who?"

Syaoran shook his head. "I didn't know them. They said they'd seen me in the tournament."

Kurogane stiffened, eyebrows slanting down. He'd met people like this in Nihon—fools who'd been arrogant enough to challenge him. Kurogane remembered the fury he'd sometimes felt, the urge to kill. Even with Tomoyo holding him back, he'd slain many such men in duels of honor.

"Well, did you win, at least?"

The kid paled, eyes drifting to his feet. "I . . . Not really. I got away." His hand drifted to the swollen ring around his eye, and a faint gasp broke through his control.

At the sound, Kurogane tensed. While he'd fought for his honor more times than he could count, he'd never been seriously hurt in the process. Seeing the kid flinch at the barest pressure hit some nerve deep inside him.

"Did you _say _you wanted to fight them?"

"No!" Syaoran squeaked, wincing as if the volume of his voice had hurt him.

There had to be something fundamentally screwed up in this world to pile this on the kid when he was already struggling so much.

"All right, let's get you cleaned up. Come on." He rested a hand on the kid's good shoulder and led him to the diminutive bathroom. Once they were there, he picked the kid up by the ribs and hoisted him onto the countertop so they were eye-level with each other. Kurogane lifted a hand to move the boy's hair out of the way, only to have the kid flinch at the movement.

_Damn you, _he thought, hand clenching into a fist. Though part of his irritation was a reaction to the boy's skittishness, the thought was mostly directed inward. He'd done enough to justify the boy's fear when he'd broken his shoulder.

Trying not to startle the boy any further, Kurogane modulated his voice. "Let me look."

Uncertainly, the boy opened his eyes. One of them, anyway.

Kurogane brushed the kid's hair back, gritting his teeth when he felt dried blood crusted in Syaoran's scalp.

"It's not the worst battle wound I've ever seen," he said, the tip of his thumb tracing the edge of the discolored patch. The bruise extended up into the kid's hairline, the flesh tender. At worst, a mild concussion. "You're going to have to stay awake tonight, in case it gets worse."

The kid took a deep breath, as if forcing himself to remain calm. "What happens if it gets worse?"

"Then we take you to the hospital, and hope you pull through."

A ghost of fear flashed across Syaoran's face, hidden so quickly Kurogane couldn't have been positive if he'd really seen it. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair, slicking it back. "It'll be all right. Like I said, I've seen much uglier battle wounds." Some of the injured had even survived.

Syaoran looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be stupid—there's nothing to be sorry _about_, so don't even worry about it."

He shook his head. "No, I'm troubling you. I can—"

Kurogane lifted his hand to the boy's chin. "No more. I'm going to stick with you until I'm sure you're going to pull through. Now hold still so I can wipe the blood off."

"Okay."

The ninja opened the bathroom cupboard and snatched one of the washcloths from the stack. He wet it down in the sink, feeling a familiar twinge of annoyance at the unresponsive plumbing before the first trickle of cold water came through. Once the cloth was sufficiently soaked, he wrung it out and turned off the water.

The kid had closed his eyes, but when the wet rag pressed against his swollen flesh, he took in a shuddery breath. "Easy. You're going to be all right," Kurogane told him, though he suspected the boy was going to have a miserable recovery.

It was strange how, even after years of killing and violence, his hands remembered how to be gentle. Kurogane wiped the washcloth across the dry trail of blood, tracing his thumb along with edge of the bruise with such a light touch, the kid never flinched. When he was done, he set the washcloth aside and rested a hand atop the kid's head. Syaoran closed his eyes and leaned forward, silently accepting the contact.

"Kurogane-san?"

He lifted his hand from the boy's hair and let his arm hang at his side. "Yeah?"

"I . . . I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

Syaoran raised his eyes to his, then broke away, as if embarrassed. "It's just . . . This will probably seem crazy to you, but . . ." His shoulders turned inward. His fingers twined together awkwardly in his lap. "I'm glad you taught my clone how to fight. I might be lying dead in an alley right now if you hadn't, so . . . Thank you."

Questions tumbled through Kurogane's mind faster than he could reason through them. If this kid had learned things through the other kid's eyes, did that mean they were still in contact? Or had their connection shattered when the other kid had betrayed them in Tokyo? He'd known this boy had the memories of the first one, but did that transcend beyond intellectual similarities? Was this kid emotionally inclined, because of those experiences, to tolerate the ostracism he'd been enduring all this time? Would his body respond the same way in a fight as his clone's? Did his memories include _muscle _memory, as well?

Instead of asking any of those questions, Kurogane said, "Let's get some ice on that eye, all right?"

With the grace of an uncoordinated seven-year-old, the boy jumped down from the countertop and wobbled, leaning against the doorframe for support. Kurogane gritted his teeth, wondering if it was wise to take him to the hospital now, make sure the injury hadn't damaged his brain in some subtle, irreversible way. When the boy walked out of the bathroom with no further troubles, however, Kurogane relaxed.

The kid went straight to the kitchen and pulled a plastic bag from the cupboard. He filled it with ice before resting the bag over his swollen eye. The look on his face when the cold plastic touched him was somewhere between pain and relief.

_He doesn't rely on us as much as the other kid did, _Kurogane realized, watching as the boy perched himself on the arm of the couch. _Even if he looks the same on the outside, he's a lot more mature. _

Briefly, Kurogane wondered if all the time the kid had spent in captivity had actually fostered the growth of his mind, or if it had been so emotionally draining, the kid had developed a self-reliant mindset. _He could be much older mentally than he is physically. He might be an adult trapped in a child's body by now. _

He frowned. He couldn't even imagine being trapped in a teenage body at his age.

He took a seat on the couch beside the boy, watching him hold the ice to his swollen face. After a moment, he resolved to ask the question that had been lingering on his lips. "How old are you?"

The boy glanced over, as if surprised, then opened his mouth. No words came out, and his eyebrows came together in apparent confusion. Finally, he shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure. I guess it depends on your definition of age."

"I mean exactly what I said."

"Yes, but . . ." The boy's hands moved through the air in a circular motion, as if he was trying to come up with the words to describe his reasoning. "That's an easy question for a _normal _person to answer, but I don't . . . I mean, my circumstances make it more complicated." He frowned, his face turning to a mask of intense concentration. He spoke slowly, trying to reason as he went. "Physically, I'm about fifteen. I can't keep track perfectly, given the nature of this journey, but that's my guess. Mentally . . . I don't know for sure. I watched the Other live for seven years before I broke free of the world I was trapped in, but that time didn't necessarily match up with how long I was actually stuck. But assuming the time matched up, and taking into account the fact that I didn't actually _experience _everything as I would've if I'd been there in my clone's place . . . I'm probably about twenty, twenty-one tops."

Kurogane nodded slowly, digesting that. _Seven years, _he thought. _That kid was trapped in a tube for seven _fucking _years. _His throat tightened with barely leashed fury. _What kind of _bastard_ imprisons a fifteen-year-old kid in a tube and makes him watch his clone living life in his place? _

But he knew the answer to that: the same kind of bastard who would stick a sword through his mother's heart.

"Is there a reason you wanted to know?" Syaoran asked.

He shrugged, still absorbed in his thoughts. There was nothing, in any world, that could possibly justify what Fei Wong Reed had done to either of them, but that didn't change the fact that it had happened. Reed's actions made the space-time witch look like a saint.

The kid sighed.

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"I can go back to my room, if I'm bothering you."

"You're not bothering me."

"I appreciate what you're doing, but I know things are strained right now, and my being here isn't helping."

Kurogane snorted. Honestly, sometimes the kid could act as stupid as the mage. "If you really think hiding in your room all day is going to keep them from hurting, then you might as well go."

Syaoran flinched, fingers tightening convulsively on the icepack. His eyes narrowed; he stood.

Kurogane reached out and caught the boy's arm before he could go far. He pulled Syaoran toward him, not releasing his wrist until he stopped resisting. At last, the boy's arms fell limp at his side, the icepack forgotten in one hand.

"Sit down," Kurogane said.

The boy hesitated, shoulders going rigid. A spasm of pain flashed across his face when they did, and Kurogane was reminded yet again of how he'd hurt him.

The universe was horribly unfair sometimes.

"Sit down," he repeated softly. "It's all right."

The kid stared at him, obviously struggling to process his tone. For a moment, his whole body was rigid, mistrustful. Was he remembering the night Kurogane had shoved him into a wall?

Finally, Syaoran exhaled and returned to his previous spot on the couch, as far from Kurogane as possible.


	10. Crushed Heart

_Author's Notes:_

_Just wanted to tell you all that I'm aware of FFN's sudden enforcement of their content policies, and I don't care. Everything is backed up, and I intend to re-post any stories that get removed for graphic content as soon as their purging dies down. I will continue writing as I have, without regard for this unfair policy._

* * *

Chapter Ten

Syaoran slumped down on the edge of the couch, closing his eyes and pressing the icepack against his face. Every touch made his flesh throb, and he wondered how Kurogane had managed to clean all the blood off without hurting him. His touch had been so controlled, almost tender.

Some small part of him wanted to experience it again—if only to assure himself he was real, that he wasn't still trapped in a tube. Every touch, however forceful or brief, was a new experience for him, and since most such touches had occurred during Infinity's chess matches, most were unpleasant.

"How's your shoulder?" Kurogane asked after a few minutes.

Syaoran's hand moved unconsciously to the brace holding his shoulder together. The break had been minor, and the brace was temporary. Seeing Sakura's permanent leg brace every time they came in contact almost made him wish he'd been hurt worse, just so they could be equals in circumstance, if nothing else. "It's fine."

Kurogane looked at him, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he rose from his spot and walked over to the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding the bottle of painkillers. "You haven't been taking these."

"I don't need them," Syaoran said.

"You being in pain isn't going to make you better. If you're hurt, you should take measures to recover."

"Would you?"

The ninja's eyebrows slanted down, jaw coming forward as the muscles in his neck stood up. "What kind of question is that?"

"You don't seem like the type of person who worries over a little pain." _Or a lot of pain, _he added to himself.

The ninja frowned, obviously trying to rein in his irritation. Finally, he let out a gusty sigh and sank into the cushions. "That's because there's not always a way to stop it, so there's no point in dwelling on it. But you have these, and if they ease the pain, you should take them."

Hesitantly, Syaoran took the orange bottle and cradled it in his hands. His swollen face throbbed, as if commanding him to take his medicine. _It shouldn't matter, _he thought. _It's not like I haven't suffered worse before. _

Yet the relief was so close, and he couldn't deny the offering while Kurogane watched him like a hawk; he unscrewed the cap and popped one of the pills into his mouth. When he'd gotten it down, he looked to the ninja for approval. Kurogane's face softened. He reached out and tousled Syaoran's hair, taking care to avoid the bruised patch. Syaoran tilted his head forward, accepting the contact, silently begging the ninja not to pull away. Sakura and Fai avoided him enough as it was—the thought of losing his tenuous connection to the ninja made his lungs convulse as if they were about to implode.

But after a minute, Kurogane withdrew his hand and settled back into the couch cushions, reaching for the remote. Syaoran wondered, briefly, what Kurogane liked to watch. He'd gotten a fairly comprehensive look at Nihon's technology when his clone had peered into the memory book in Recourt, and he was pretty sure they didn't have anything as advanced as television. Watching TV would've been a new experience for Kurogane, and without any cultural prejudice against what he should or shouldn't watch, Syaoran would be able to make a clinical analysis about how the ninja's mind worked.

He blinked rapidly, realizing how much it sounded like he was about to perform a science experiment.

Kurogane flipped through the channels for a while, glancing at him every few seconds. A tense line had formed along his jaw, muscles pulled tight over the bone. His arms were rigid, and even the miniscule twitches required to operate the remote were forced and mechanical. Something was simmering under the surface, something Syaoran had seen in brief fits through the Other's eyes.

Fury seethed in the ninja, hot and potent and rigidly under control.

Kurogane sighed and set the remote down, his hand moving slowly, deliberately. They'd ended up on one of the news channels, judging by the didactic tone of the speaker.

Syaoran tried to watch, but the images on the screen started to blur together after a moment, and his mind registered only the colors and shapes, not the actual picture. Every few seconds, his eyes flitted to the ninja on the other side of the couch. Some lost instinct must've been urging him to keep tabs on the other man's anger—the same instinct that singled out threats in the crowd before the danger rose too high. Another instinct, this one honed by logic and the knowledge that Kurogane wouldn't hurt him unless he did something exceptionally stupid, commanded him to keep his face forward, his glances stealthy.

He should've known there was no feasible way to fly under a ninja's radar. Kurogane turned to him, his voice sharp. "What?"

Syaoran flinched, his eyes automatically seeking the safety of his feet. "Nothing."

"You keep looking over here like you want to say something. So what is it?"

He hesitated, teeth burying themselves in his lower lip. "It's . . . Are you sure you're not mad at me?"

Kurogane's eyebrows came together, nostrils flaring like a dragon about to breathe fire. "Why would I be mad at _you_?"

Syaoran flinched, the words echoing in his ears, overshadowing the murmurs of the news anchors. _Of course. Why _would _he be mad at me? Why would he feel anything for me at all? I'm nothing to him, just like I'm nothing to the others. He only helped me because standing by would've gone against his morals. _Bitterness crept into his thoughts, spreading out like a pool of blood. _I'm just a copy to them. Close enough to their Syaoran to hurt them, but too different for them to care about. There's no point for him to get angry at _me_, because I don't matter to him._

"I'm sorry," he said, rising from the couch.

"Where do you think you're _going_?"

"My room."

"You might have a _concussion_."

"So?"

Kurogane rose to his feet like a dragon emerging from its lair. His hand snaked out to wrap around Syaoran's forearm. He flinched from the contact, his mind registering the dull pain of the ninja's fingertips digging into his flesh. "Let go," he said reflexively.

Kurogane dropped his arm as if he'd been burned. All the tension that had been in his body before had been magnified. The air hummed with unreleased tension—frustration, hurt, shock all sizzling between them, as silent and still as the air before a storm.

Kurogane tilted his head forward so his eyes were shadowed by the ridges of his eye sockets. All the emotions shifted to something Syaoran recognized more by instinct than by experience: danger. Any move either of them made now was dangerous. Retreat was out of the question; though his bedroom door was only a few feet behind him, he dared not turn his back now. Doing so would cost him what little ground he'd gained since Tokyo.

So they stood there, the air between them humming with some strange combination of anger and electricity. At last, Kurogane lifted his hand, palm pressing against Syaoran's collarbone, and eased him back. Freed from the intense stillness of a moment ago, Syaoran retreated until his back hit the wall. Kurogane stopped, then moved his hand to Syaoran's chin and tilted his head up.

Their gazes met, radiating all the same emotions that had buzzed between them before. "What will it take," the ninja began, his voice deadly quiet. "to make you stop acting like this?"

Syaoran said nothing. He wasn't sure he knew the answer.

"You act like your life means nothing to us," Kurogane went on, crouching down so they were almost at eye level. Syaoran's heart clenched, his breath coming faster. Everything about this situation was unfamiliar, yet his instincts warned him of something shifting between them.

"Maybe you even believe it," Kurogane went on. "But I don't. As cold as the others are to you, you _do _mean something to them. They rely on you. In the chess matches, they trust you to deal with your part of the fight, even if they won't say so."

Their faces were closer now, mere inches apart. Syaoran could smell the unique scent coming off the ninja's skin, a blend of deep forest and falling snow and rain seeping into the soil. Unconsciously, he leaned forward, inhaling.

Kurogane's fingers found his collarbone, resting there with the pressure of a feather kissed by the wind. Not a restraining hand, just a point of contact.

"And by now, you should know better than to think _I _consider you worthless." The ninja's fingers flexed, raising bumps across Syaoran's neck.

Every touch was a new experience to him, but this was wholly different from the tender touch of a washcloth across his forehead. He wanted more, _needed _more, but he didn't know how to ask, couldn't be sure of the ninja's reaction if he tried. His tongue found only one word among the haze in his brain. "Please . . . please."

Kurogane's expression shifted, unveiling the elusive _something _that had been stirring under the surface. A breach in control, like a flare of temper, but different. Not dangerous.

Kurogane would not hurt him.

Hands shaking, Syaoran tilted his face up and allowed his body to sway forward. He almost didn't go through with it, too afraid of the ninja's reaction. But he _did _go through with it, and his lips brushed Kurogane's for the second time in his life. Unfamiliar sensations bombarded his body, at odds with what he'd thought he should feel. There was, as always, guilt, but it was unfocused, not strong enough to combat the _other _feelings surging through his body. The electricity that had merely hummed through the air before sizzled between their lips.

Kurogane's hand found his shoulder and pushed him back into the wall. Their lips broke contact, and Syaoran braced himself for the blow he knew he deserved.

A couple weeks ago, he'd put his lips to the ninja's in an attempt to prove to himself that he wasn't his clone. He hadn't thought of that incident as a kiss—it couldn't be, because it hadn't been reciprocated and it hadn't been driven by either lust or love.

But now, Kurogane was only inches away, and though Syaoran couldn't identify any specific feelings amidst the chaos in his brain, the only word that came to his lips was "please." _Please don't abandon me, please don't hurt me, please don't push me away . . ._

Kurogane's hand moved down to his wrists, pinning him to the wall. His shoulder throbbed with the movement, but the painkillers were starting to take effect, draining the residual ache from his body. And frankly, he was too distracted to worry about the sparks of pain shooting down his arm.

"Please . . ." He tilted his head back, standing on his tiptoes and brushing their lips together again.

Kurogane released one of Syaoran's arms in favor of coiling his hand in his hair. The movement pulled at his wounds, and he gasped.

The ninja leaned back, his expression made of granite. "Done?"

The word coiled around Syaoran's heart, crushing it until it felt like it was going to rupture.

"Sorry," Syaoran whispered, his tongue finally becoming a little more articulate. His hands, trembling still, reached behind him for the knob of his door, and he staggered inside.

He never made it to the bed. His legs wobbled so much he had to kneel down in the middle of the floor, clutching his chest. One thought dominated all others in his mind.

_What have I done?_


	11. Concussion Be Damned

Chapter Eleven

Kurogane stared at the door, fingers coiled tight as if to guard against the shock of what had just happened.

_That was . . . _His thought trailed off, his mind unable to think of an appropriate adjective. Several fought for dominance in his mind: _wrong, immoral, thrilling, disgusting, sick . . . _

Abruptly, he spun so he was facing away from the kid's door. _He's just a kid. But he's also mentally an adult. _He shook his head, shaking off the thoughts. Even if that was true—and he wasn't sure he believed it like the kid seemed to—Syaoran was still trapped in a teenager's body. There was no way Kurogane could think to reconcile _that _with what had just . . .

He closed his eyes, lifting his fingers to his lips. His discipline was obviously slipping. Had been slipping since he'd thrown the boy into the wall last time this had happened. _I should've done it again, _he thought. Not because he wanted to hurt the kid, but because some lines needed to be drawn in ink.

Kurogane opened his eyes. The walls were the same as always, cracked and painted an ashy gray. No decorations, not even a calendar—who would need one, when their journey was measured in steps taken instead of months passed? But suddenly, the barren walls that had once fitted his simple tastes seemed too bare, the tiny cracks as wide as chasms. This apartment—the dingy couch, cramped kitchen, fuzzy television—was nothing more than a physical manifestation of the colorless, frigid space between their once-cohesive group, and he _hated _it.

He waited for that cold hatred to turn to burning anger, just like it always did. It didn't. He couldn't even call up the urge to slam his fist into the wall to provide some sort of catharsis.

He couldn't just stand there. He turned again and stalked into the bathroom, almost slamming the door behind him. Once inside, he turned on the sink, twisting the knobs so hard, the rusted metal groaned. When the freezing water finally started flowing, he ran both hands under the stream and wiped his face, running his fingers along his scalp. His whole body felt grimy, as if he'd spent the afternoon fighting demons.

Finally, he gave up trying to cleanse himself at the sink and turned instead to the bathtub. He turned the knob, stripping off the sleeveless shirt he'd acquired their first day in this colorless country, then the rest of his clothes. He tested the water with his foot, growled when he found it at a temperature low enough to make the mage cold, then turned the knob until steam rose from the bottom of the tub. He stepped into the scalding water, taking a deep breath to steel himself, then hit the button to switch to the showerhead.

Water seared his back like dragon-fire. He stood there, letting it burn him, letting all the horror of tonight wash down the drain.

* * *

Syaoran stared at the ceiling, tracing patterns with his eyes as he tried to justify his own actions.

He hadn't known what to expect—hadn't been thinking clearly enough to define his expectations. What he hadn't expected, though, was the bitter calm of Kurogane's reaction, the ice his voice afterward.

His lips tingled faintly, as if the capillaries under the surface had burst. He lifted two fingers and pressed them to his lower lip. It didn't _feel _swollen or tender, as the sensation seemed to indicate. If anything, the sensation was pleasant. One of the first pleasant sensations he'd felt since escaping his watery prison.

He supposed that was a fair tradeoff for the fact that Kurogane probably wanted to kill him now.

Syaoran rolled onto his stomach and closed his eyes, waiting for the ninja to burst through the door with Souhi in hand. Because of course that was what would happen. Syaoran had seen enough of the ninja's fury to know what happened to the people who sparked his temper.

_Let him come, _Syaoran thought. _Let him kill me now while Sakura's asleep so she doesn't have to watch me bleed._ The corner of his mouth twitched. Sakura. What was he going to do about her if he survived the next few hours? Their next chess match was only a few days away; she needed him for that.

Syaoran's hand slid to his temporary shoulder brace, tracing the metal edges. He could only imagine the shape he would've been in if Kurogane had reacted the same way this time.

_Why didn't he? _Syaoran wondered, burying his face in his pillow. _Was he too surprised? _The questions tumbled uncomfortably through his mind, battering against the inside of his skull. When he thought about how it had felt to have someone else's mouth against his, he clutched the sheets in frustration. _What's _wrong_ with me? _he wondered, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Blushing. He was actually _blushing_, not out of shame but because even the memory of his first real kiss stirred a response in his body.

He laid there for a moment, waiting. He heard the hiss of the bathroom faucet turning on, then, a minute later, water rushing from the metal spout of the tub. Quietly, he panicked. What if the others woke up? Would they question why the ninja had suddenly decided to start showering at night? Would they grasp the ulterior motive?

_I must be crazy._ When he closed his eyes, the swollen flesh where he'd been hit with the pipe throbbed. _T__hat's it. Kurogane said I probably had a concussion. Maybe I've damaged my prefrontal lobe, and now all my judgment's gone out the window. _He sighed, wondering how he was going to explain _that_ to the ninja.

In the next room, the sound of rushing water continued, pipes groaning for several minutes before the plumbing adapted to the flow of water. Syaoran listened for a while, tuning out all the accusations trying to find their way into his mind. He imagined the water playing over his skin, washing away the sinful things he'd felt in that exhilarating, terrifying moment. But cleansing turned to dwelling, which turned to remembrance, which left him exactly where he'd started off, heart pounding, body responding with a stab of desire he knew he shouldn't feel.

_It's because I hit my head, _he told himself, rolling over and letting his arms sprawl out so they dangled over the edge of the mattress. _It's because I'm broken somehow. It's my fault._ The chilly air of the bedroom swept over his skin, raising bumps there, and he forced himself to think only of his discomfort. There was no way he could justify what he'd done or what he was feeling now. Perhaps it was best not to try.

_I should go to sleep, _he finally thought. _Then I can pretend this was all just a dream. _His eyelids drifted shut, then flew open again as he remembered what Kurogane had said about concussions and falling asleep. _I could slip into a coma and never wake up, _Syaoran thought, fingers tightening convulsively around the papery sheets. A moment later, his body relaxed. _Maybe it's better that way. Maybe, if I just closed my eyes, I could slip away quietly._

Sakura's face played across the inside of his eyelids, images of her pre-Tokyo smiles mingling with heart-rending pictures of her now-steely eyes. And the other Sakura, still alive somewhere, most likely in Fei Wong's grasp, or wandering around some pocket dimension, waiting for him. _It's her I should want to kiss, _he thought, guilt stirring in his stomach. _So what am I doing? _

_But your Sakura's not here, _whispered an insidious little voice in the back of his head. _And this Sakura won't even acknowledge you, so where's the harm? Who has to know? _

He groaned. Thinking about his Sakura had always been a point of light during his imprisonment. Those stolen glimpses of the cloned princess, too, had comforted him.

_Why does it hurt to think about them now? _he wondered. _Have I betrayed them both? _His throat ached, as if someone had wrapped steel wire around his trachea and pulled it tight. _Even if my Sakura is in another world, even if we never committed to anything . . . Is it still a betrayal? _

He didn't know. There was no rulebook for relationships, especially not inter-dimensional relationships in which at least one of the parties still had a perfectly healthy, if despondent, clone walking around. And that wasn't even factoring Kurogane into the equation.

Yet he needed some sort of connection, something more than the chilly tolerance of his traveling companions. He needed intimacy, needed someone to confide in, someone who wouldn't shut him out or judge him. At the very least, he needed someone safe to interact with. And even if Kurogane had pushed him away, at least he hadn't hurt him.

Finally, he gave up. It was too much to think about, and every path his mind took depended on a set of assumptions he couldn't make until he saw how the ninja acted over the next few days. He closed his eyes and, concussion be damned, slept.


	12. All Dreams Must End

Chapter Twelve

Kurogane stepped out of the shower and pulled one of the towels from the bathroom cabinet, wiping it across his skin without really registering the roughness of the cheap fabric. He'd stood in the shower, thinking, until the searing water had gone numbingly cold, and while he hadn't figured out what the hell was wrong with _him_, he thought he knew why the kid was acting so strange.

He finished drying himself and donned a clean outfit. He'd gotten into the habit of keeping spare clothes lying around in case they suddenly had to switch dimensions while he was in the shower or something. Besides, it was probably bad manners to walk around wearing only a towel in front of a princess, no matter how well you knew her.

The living room was empty when he entered. No surprise there. The TV was still on, volume turned low, forgotten in the raw intensity of the kiss. Kurogane shook his head, trying to clear it. Now wasn't the time to worry about that. First, he had to make sure the kid hadn't slipped into a coma.

He knocked first. If the kid was awake, he'd be more inclined to answer a polite knock than a forced entry. "Kid? You in there?"

No reply, but that didn't mean much. Kurogane sighed, hand moving to the doorknob. The kid usually locked his door, but it would look awfully stupid of him if he tried to break in when it was unlocked. He was shocked when it actually opened.

Syaoran's room was dark, the lamp on the dresser unplugged. The only light that intruded either came from starlight piercing the tiny window or the artificial light coming in from the doorway where he stood. Shadows pooled under the bed, rising up in the creases of the blanket like hands clawing their way to the boy curled up on the mattress.

The boy's sleep was not peaceful. Syaoran's hand twitched, like the paws of a dog locked in a nightmare, and his face occasionally pinched tight, as if he was in pain. Considering how recently the boy had taken his pain medication, Kurogane didn't think that was likely. If Hitsuzen, or fate, or whatever, was cruel enough to torment the kid even in his dreams, Kurogane could almost understand why the boy had reached out to him like he had.

The kid only wanted someone to assure him that things were okay. Hitsuzen couldn't even give him that.

Kurogane ghosted over to the edge of the bed. His shadow fell over the boy's haggard face, and he wondered how little sleep the kid was actually getting, regardless of how much time he spent isolated in his room. Dark circles ringed both eyes, only slightly paler than the bruise he'd received in the fight.

Syaoran twitched again, a soft whimper rising from his throat. The sound was so anguished, all Kurogane could do was stare. A moment later, the sound repeated itself, even quieter than before. Syaoran's fingers splayed, hand twitching forward as if reaching for something. His lips moved, framing some word Kurogane couldn't decipher. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, shimmering in the faint light flowing in through the doorway.

It was the tears that did it. Kurogane knelt down at the kid's bedside and rested his hand on the boy's uninjured shoulder. The kid's only response was to moan, as if he was about to sob.

"It's all right," Kurogane whispered, absently running his hand down the curve of Syaoran's shoulder. "You'll be all right."

Perhaps Syaoran's subconscious mind absorbed the words, or perhaps his nightmare ended right then. Either way, his body relaxed, and the unconscious tears ceased. Kurogane moved his palm back and forth across the boy's back, a soothing technique his mother had often used to lull him to sleep as a child. The memory surprised him—most of the time, he tried to keep his parents off his mind. He'd thought he'd left those years behind. It was strange how easily they resurfaced.

"You'll be all right," he murmured again.

The boy slept soundly now, though not as soundly as he might've if he'd slipped into a coma. Kurogane decided to let it go. The kid's injuries had been relatively minor, and keeping him awake had merely been a precaution. In all likelihood, he'd wake up tomorrow, same as always.

_And then he'll look at the princess, and he'll look at the mage, and he'll start falling apart again. _The thought irked him. It made sense for the mage to be upset—this kid wore the same face as the kid who'd ripped out his eye—so even if Fai's coldness wasn't justified, Kurogane understood it. What he didn't get was why the princess treated the kid like she did. She didn't speak to him, didn't even look at him, despite the fact that he was searching for the feathers for her.

_I'm the only one looking out for him, _Kurogane realized with a jolt. His fingers curled into a fist, and Syaoran flinched in his sleep as if he'd felt the movement. The ninja made a concerted effort to calm himself. _He can't talk to the others, and the manju bun is more of a liability to him than a protector. He thinks I'm the only one who would step in to help him, if it came down to it._

The disturbing part was that Kurogane thought the same thing. Fai might save the boy from harm, if only by reflex, but he probably wouldn't help him on purpose. Sakura could help him no more than Mokona.

"I won't let you get hurt," he promised, half-wishing the boy was awake to hear his reassurances. As it stood right now, his honor was the only thing holding him to his word, and after tonight, he had to wonder if that wasn't slipping, too.

It would have to be enough.

* * *

By the time Syaoran woke, sunlight was streaming in through the tiny window, and his pain medication had worn off. He lifted a hand to his eye, then gasped as the pain registered with him.

At least he'd woken up. His nightmares had been awful recollections of how he'd let his Sakura's life slip away from him so long ago, how he'd been too late to stop the seal of death from being imprinted on her body. _I was too late then, _he thought. _I won't lose her again. Neither of them._

He sighed and slipped out of bed. He was surprised to find himself still swaddled in the sheets. Usually, he kicked them off in his sleep whenever he had nightmares. As soon as he stood up, his legs wobbled under him, and he had to sit back down. His forehead throbbed with pain, his vision dancing with spots. The rest of his body ached from dozens of minor wounds, none quite as severe as the blow to his head had been. _Well, at least I have new books to read while I recover, _he thought distantly, massaging the tender spot on his forehead. Fresh pain washed through his body at the touch, and he spent a moment wondering how Kurogane had managed to wash the wound without hurting him.

Thinking about the ninja's touch led to thoughts about the frantic kiss of last night. Syaoran felt the heat rising to his cheeks and, more embarrassingly, stir in other parts of his body. _I shouldn't even be thinking about this. I should be trying to get this Sakura's feathers back. I should be trying to find _my _Sakura, wherever Reed's imprisoned her. At the very least, I should be thinking ahead to the next chess match. _

He sighed. His stomach growled.

_You'll have to face them at some point, _he told himself, rising slowly from the edge of the bed. This time, the movement was only accompanied by a faint twinge of disorientation.

He walked over to the door, moving his hand as if to unlock it. He stiffened when he realized the deadbolt was already turned sideways, leaving him vulnerable. _That's right. I left in unlocked in case Kurogane wanted to kill me. _

Paranoid, not quite believing he'd just _thought _about that, Syaoran glanced around. _I must've hit my head harder than I thought. _With a turn of the knob, the door came open, and he stepped out into the living room.

Fai was already in the kitchen, dragging a wooden spoon in circles through a pot. The smell of spices—earthy oregano, dirt-scented thyme, sharp crushed red peppers—permeated the air, overlaid by the smell of vinegar and garlic. Syaoran inhaled deeply.

His breath was evidently enough to alert Fai of his presence, because the vampire's head whipped around, a single blue eye freezing on his face. "What _happened_?"

Syaoran tensed, thoughts scattering like roaches from the light. It took him a moment to realize Fai was talking about the bruise on his forehead. Self-consciously, he lifted a hand to the swollen spot. "I got into a fight on my way back from the library."

Fai's expression morphed from startled concern to apathy. When the magician turned his head back to the pot, Syaoran looked down.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked hesitantly.

Fai glanced back, seeming distracted. "Spaghetti."

Syaoran nodded, trying to pluck up the courage to ask for some. Since joining the group, he'd always eaten alone, never daring to intrude on the other's peace of mind. He didn't know what made him want to try now, when there was nothing to gain but a confirmation of how little Fai and Sakura cared about his wellbeing, but he found himself edging closer to the kitchen.

It had been a long time since he'd had a warm meal.

"Are you going to be eating with us this morning?" Fai asked, his tone neutral.

Syaoran hesitated. "Can I?"

Fai set the wooden spoon aside, watching over the pot like a statue. Finally, he said, "I suppose so."

Syaoran tried to smile, tried to ignore the disappointed edge in the magician's voice. He didn't quite manage it.

Kurogane walked into the kitchen then, throwing him a surprised glance as he passed. Syaoran felt the heat rise to his cheeks; he looked away, sliding off the arm of the couch and walking over to the bathroom.

He closed the door behind him. _Don't think about it, _he counseled himself, turning the knob on the faucet until it started spurting cold water. He captured the water in his hand, some slipping through his fingers, and splashed it across his face in an effort to make the blood vessels in his cheeks contract so he wouldn't blush. _This is insane, _he thought, breathing hard. _I must be losing my mind. There's no way . . . I must've been dreaming. _He shook his head. Water dripped onto the marble countertop.

_Yes, it must've been a dream. And all dreams must end._


	13. It Was Snowing

Chapter Thirteen

The kid ate dinner as if he thought all food was just going to vanish from this dimension.

Kurogane kept an eye on him, glancing up surreptitiously as he looked for signs that this was too much for the boy. Syaoran kept his head down, not speaking, barely slowing enough to observe table manners. Kurogane wondered if it was anxiety or hunger that drove him to eat so fast.

_Maybe both, _he decided, as the boy cleared his plate. The kid stood up, retreating from the table as if there was a rabid dog chained to it. Without a word, he skittered over to the sink and started scrubbing his plate clean with manic intensity.

It was all a little disturbing—the fear evident in his every motion, the silence with which he endured the cool glances of his clone's friends. Most troubling of all were those fleeting moments when the kid looked at him as if he was begging him to make things okay.

Kurogane wished he knew how. At this point, there were few things he wouldn't do to remove the hopelessness written bold across Syaoran's face.

He was willing to give the kid everything except what he'd tried to elicit in his strange, desperate advances.

Syaoran retreated to his room, locking the door as he usually did. _Does he lock it because he thinks we're going to hurt him, or does he lock it to put a wall between himself and what he has to face every time he sees the others? _

Conversation resumed, however somberly, as soon as the boy was gone. "He doesn't usually eat with us," Sakura murmured, twirling a pile of leftover spaghetti on her plate without actually lifting it to her lips. "He did this morning, too." Her face had changed, though it didn't look quite as gaunt as Syaoran's had a few days ago. It was more like she'd grown too distant from her old self to look like the same girl who'd lost her memories.

"No, he doesn't," Fai said emptily, bringing a forkful of spaghetti to his lips and swallowing it. Kurogane knew the human food held little nutritional value for the vampire, but he supposed it made sense for Fai to keep eating as he had, since he could. He'd loved cooking before Tokyo.

Before Tokyo. And then, after Tokyo, everything had changed. Even something as miniscule as keeping the same eating habits seemed miraculous.

_Everything changes, _Kurogane reminded himself. _The few constants that remain serve to remind the world that nothing else is as reliable. _That was something his mother had taught him, between her duties as a miko. And then she'd been gone, too, along with his father, and the grief had broken him for a time.

His morose train of thought led back to the boy. Was the kid in mourning, as he had been? Was that why he was acting so broken all of a sudden, when he'd been perfectly functional for weeks? Had he realized the extent of what he'd lost?

Kurogane stood up. "I'm done."

"You've hardly touched your dinner, Kurogane."

_Damn you, _he thought. "Not with _dinner_. I'm done with _you_. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of the way you're sulking like there's nothing to salvage in this world, and I'm sick of watching this group fall apart." His eyes grazed both their faces, but neither Fai nor Sakura met his gaze. "Whether you two like it or not, we're all on this journey. If you don't shape up, we're not going to be functional when we really need it."

They both seemed taken aback by his words. It was the first real flicker of emotion he'd seen from either of them besides frigid aloofness in weeks.

It took everything he had to stop there, before he said something he might actually regret. He turned away from the table, grabbed his sword from where he'd leaned it against the wall, and stalked over to the door. "I'm going out," he snarled. _And you'd all better think about what you're doing while I'm gone._

Kurogane pulled the door open, and slammed it shut.

* * *

Syaoran heard the front door slam.

He heard a lot of things, beyond the paper-thin walls of his bedroom. Some of what he heard was a direct result of having his ear pressed to the sheetrock as he tried to remember that he still had a purpose here, with these people, that his Sakura was waiting somewhere for him.

Tonight, it was different. It wasn't peace he found in their conversations, however grim. It was anger.

Kurogane's anger, more specifically. And because it was, directly or indirectly, related to him, Syaoran felt compelled to sort it out. By the time he got up and opened his door, however, Kurogane was gone.

Fai and Sakura stared at the door as if they couldn't really comprehend the ninja's departure. Syaoran's heart gave a little shudder when he saw Sakura, just as it always did whenever he saw her these days. _Someday, when our enemy has fallen and it's safe, I'll tell you about the other Sakura, _he vowed, unable to tear his eyes from her face even when she noticed his staring.

There was something frigid in her gaze, like a layer of ice over a shallow pond. Secrets twinkled in her eyes. Syaoran wondered if Fai knew any of them.

Behind Sakura, Fai shifted, turning back toward the table. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, but before Syaoran could process Fai's expression, he jerked his head down to stare at his feet. He shuffled toward the door, stepping into his shoes before turning the handle.

"Where are you going?" Fai asked.

He hesitated. Before he'd even left his room, he'd been compelled to follow the ninja wherever he went. Logically, he knew Kurogane couldn't leave permanently, but even a temporary separation would deepen the fissure in their little group, and if there was any way to stop that, it was his duty.

Besides, they needed to talk.

"I'm going out," Syaoran said vaguely.

"You don't have a coat," Fai said, and that was the closest thing to genuine concern he'd heard from the magician since they'd met in Tokyo.

"I'll be fine." _I'm always fine. Never been better._

Syaoran began to wonder just how long he'd been lying to himself.

Fai frowned, but didn't press the issue. Syaoran abandoned their decrepit apartment and ascended to the main lobby, moving quickly to catch up to Kurogane. He pushed through the exterior doors. The glass was foggy with cold, but it wasn't until he was outside that he realized it was snowing.

Fat, white puffs drifting down from an opaque sky, illuminated by the yellow glare of the street lamps. The snowflakes drifted to the ground, leaving the sidewalk crusted with a thin layer of ice. Frigid wind whipped at his sheer clothes, stirring the snowflakes so they danced like stars moving through the blackness.

The treacherous beauty transfixed him, taunting him with its purity while threatening him with its frigid touch. For one precious moment, he forgot why every _tick _of the clock made him ache inside, why every minute seemed to stretch on for hours in this aptly named world.

Syaoran remembered his purpose then, and snapped out of his philosophical musings. Standing in the entryway of the apartment complex wasn't going to help him find Kurogane.

The streets around him were crowded, but it didn't take him long to catch sight of the dark figure looming over everyone else. Even at a distance, Kurogane's height made him stand out.

Syaoran cut through the crowds, wondering why foot traffic was so thick. Despite his limited exposure to the outside world, the elegant wreaths and colored lights hanging from every surface tipped him off to some local holiday, a grand, festive celebration by the look of it. The decorations seemed horribly out of place in this city where games of blood were fought for money and warring criminal syndicates lurked in shadowed alleyways.

But he kept pushing through the crowd, weaving his way toward Kurogane. Despite the fact that his smaller stature should've made it easier to slip through crowds, Kurogane seemed to travel faster still, the sea of people parting around him like waves splitting in front of a boat. Several times, Syaoran lost sight of him in the throng, until there came a point where he wasn't sure he was heading in the right direction at all.

Then Kurogane's head popped up among the sea of faces, banishing the fear from his mind as a light bulb banished the dark.

The crowd thinned out a bit after a while. Many people moved in and out of decorated stores, paper bags overflowing with items that had no rhyme or reason. _A gift-giving holiday? _Syaoran wondered, maneuvering around a woman with three shopping bags hanging from her arms—

—and accidentally slamming into a thickset man rushing in the opposite direction.

The impact flung Syaoran from the sidewalk, and, not anticipating the sudden drop-off of the curb, he lost his footing. His arms wheeled in a futile attempt to regain his balance, adrenaline shooting through his veins.

_I'm going to fall straight into oncoming traffic, _he realized, just as two glaring headlights pierced his pupils.


	14. Close Your Eyes and Sleep

Chapter Fourteen

As the headlights glared down at him, Syaoran realized he was going to die.

The clouds blocked out any stars that might've lit the sky, and the street lamp above him was burnt out, leaving this stretch of the street in darkness. The only light came from a tacky neon sign clinging to the dingy, nicotine-stained window of a bar.

Seeing that, Syaoran realized he was going to die alone in the dark.

His arms flailed, as a drowning man's arms might flail as he tried to keep his head above water. The man who'd bumped into him was several meters away now, probably not even aware that he'd inadvertently caused the death that was about to happen. Festive music twisted through the air, overcoming the breeze the way a piccolo pierced through a band.

He was going to die.

With a strange sort of calm, Syaoran accepted that. Perhaps it was not the most valiant death, or the most glamorous. He would not live to see his Sakura—none of his companions, except perhaps for a glimpse of the back of Kurogane's head as his own was crushed under a tire. But there were worse ways to die—tortured, impaled on a sword. And there were worse ways to live—tortured, stuck in a glass tube for seven years, separated from his beloved and isolated. Alone.

All this, he processed before he even hit the asphalt. His shoulder brace cracked against the blacktop, shattering, but he didn't feel any pain. _That's good, _he thought. _That probably means it will be a painless death._

Circular headlights bore down on him like the eyes of a demon. He looked up, merely waiting for the car to run him over. He doubted the driver had seen him.

The back of his shirt was wet, and much colder than it ought to be despite being in contact with the ground. _I must've landed in a puddle, _he thought, staring at the moonless sky. _I guess not everything's frozen._

A high-pitched squeal grated on his ears, and for a moment, he felt sorry for whoever was about to run him over. Even in this dismal world, killing someone by accident had to be a cause for grief. He hoped no one would suffer too badly for his death.

The brakes weren't enough. The car bearing down on him would not stop in time; it would crush his ribs, or his skull, or whatever happened to be in the way at the point of impact. And it was too close now to swerve out of the way, especially on this ice.

Syaoran closed his eyes.

Something warm snaked around his wrist and yanked him upward so fast his head snapped back. For the first time since he'd started falling, pain lanced through his body, sharp and sudden and dizzying. Instinct made him pull on whatever was yanking him away from the car, and that took him the last few inches from the shrieking wheels. The edge of the car's side-view mirror passed within an inch of his neck, almost taking his head off, then passed harmlessly by as the driver honked.

_Oh, _he thought, registering nothing more than dull surprise. _I guess I'm not going to die after all._ He tilted his head back to look at his savior, wondering what kind person had pulled him from death before realizing that he'd accepted his fate.

"What do you think you're doing out here?"

Syaoran blinked. "Kurogane-san?"

Eyes as red as blood glared back at him, much more intimidating than the eerie yellow headlights of the car that had almost run him down. Kurogane shook him, voice rising in volume and pitch. "What the _hell _are you _doing_?"

_Almost dying, _he thought. A strange feeling bubbled up in his chest, somewhere between shock and giddiness. "Almost dying," he answered, a hysterical chuckle escaping his throat. His voice shook. "What are _you _doing?"

Kurogane's body jerked as if he was about to slap him. Then, the ninja relaxed his hold, just enough that Syaoran was able to touch the ground again. "I _meant_: why are you jumping into oncoming traffic?"

"I didn't jump," Syaoran argued, starting to regain control over his body. He focused on stilling the shaking of his hands as he went on. "I fell."

"You fell."

He nodded.

Kurogane stared at him as if he didn't quite believe that. But for once, he didn't press the issue. "It's freezing and your clothes are wet. Come on."

Syaoran allowed the ninja to drag him away from the street and into one of the well-lit shops nearby.

It was as if they'd been transported to another world. Flowing dresses with sequined accessories hung from plastic dolls made to resemble the human figure, if that figure happened to be anorexic. Dark suits, not unlike some of the ones he'd worn since starting this journey, hung in neat rows from wire hangers. Strangest of all, every single light seemed to be functioning at maximum power. He blinked rapidly against the brilliance.

Kurogane towed him toward the back of the store and pulled him into one of the changing rooms. "Take your shirt off."

_Well, that's an odd request, _he thought, still coming down from his adrenaline high. He tried to undo the buttons of his shirt, but his hands were shaking for some reason, and he hadn't even managed to undo the top button when Kurogane shoved his hands out of the way and unbuttoned it for him. The ninja tossed the soaked article into the corner, then started unzipping his own jacket.

_We're doing this here, in a changing room? _His thoughts spun in complex circles, and nothing made sense. From the look on Kurogane's face after the hasty, unreturned kiss, he'd figured the ninja had decided not to respond to him. "Have you changed your mind?" Syaoran murmured, almost to himself.

"What?" Kurogane sloughed off his coat and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. Belatedly, Syaoran realized his mistake. His thoughts derailed for a moment, then settled on a new track. _Oh. He thinks I'm cold._

Syaoran opened his mouth to say otherwise, but Kurogane rested a hand on his cheek, and all Syaoran could think about was how his hand felt like fire against his skin.

"Stay here. I'm going to—"

"Don't leave!" The words burst from his lips, uncensored.

Kurogane turned back to him, stunned.

"Don't leave . . ." Syaoran whispered, bowing his head in shame. "Please don't leave . . ."

Kurogane knelt down in front of his bench so they were eye to eye. His callused hands found Syaoran's shoulders and rested there, bleeding warmth into his numb skin. For a long moment, Kurogane just stared at him, his face an odd mix of concern and shock.

_I must've really scared him to make him look like that,_ Syaoran thought, his usual guilt finally making an appearance. He closed his eyes, head hanging. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what to do," Kurogane said, and there was something in his voice Syaoran had never heard in it before. Something almost like defeat. "I don't know how to fix this."

"I'm sorry . . ."

Kurogane weaved a hand through his hair. "You're freezing. Why weren't you wearing a jacket?"

"I've been stuck in a glass tube for the past seven years," he said bitterly. "I haven't gotten around to buying a jacket."

The ninja's fingers tightened, tugging on his hair. "I don't know how to fix that either."

Syaoran shook his head. "It's my fault—"

"Don't be ridiculous." Kurogane's voice whipped out, low and harsh. "None of this is your fault. _None _of it. Stop apologizing, and stop . . ." Kurogane exhaled sharply. "Stop. All of this."

"I . . ." He bit his lip, biting back the apology the ninja obviously didn't want to hear. He looked away.

"Do you feel cold?"

He hesitated. He didn't _feel _cold, exactly, but his body was shivering all over, and given the circumstances, he almost certainly had frostbite somewhere. His teeth chattered when he answered. "I d-don't know . . ."

Unease shot across the ninja's face; he sat down at Syaoran's side and pulled him into his arms. "I think you're hypothermic."

Syaoran shook his head rapidly. "I'm f-f-_fine_." But then Kurogane's hand pressed against his cheek, his touch like fire against his skin. Syaoran convulsed, curling up to preserve what little body heat that remained to him. The ninja wrapped his arms more securely around his frame, letting warmth seep into his flesh wherever they touched. It was an odd sensation—wearing patches of invisible fire while the rest of his body acclimated to the warm air of the changing room—but it didn't feel bad. A soft whimper escaped his throat.

"It's all right," Kurogane murmured. His voice was unusually soft. "You're all right."

"I'm cold."

"It's all right."

"I almost died," he whispered, a new chill spreading through his chest. If Kurogane hadn't been there, if he hadn't intervened . . . _I'd have died. I would've bled out all over the pavement. _His breath came faster, and his shivering grew more intense. Everything—the glaring headlights, the cold seeping into his bones, the fire of Kurogane's arms wrapped around his trembling body—seemed suddenly too real. He reached for the closest thing to him, grasping Kurogane's sleeve like a drowning man might snatch a life ring from the water. "I almost died."

For once, Kurogane didn't push him away. He just drew him in closer and let him press his frozen hands against the thin fabric of his black shirt. Syaoran rested his cold cheek to the hollow of the ninja's throat. Oddly, the longer he sat there, the colder his body felt. _Am I going into shock? _he wondered, inhaling.

"Just relax," Kurogane murmured, smoothing Syaoran's hair back.

"I'm tired," Syaoran said. Like before, the words came out of his mouth without being filtered through his brain. It was true, though. He _was_ tired. Tired of being awake, tired of trying to fight, tired of traveling. Most of all, he was tired of being hurt.

"It's all right. Close your eyes and sleep."

Syaoran obeyed.


	15. Playing with Our Characters

Chapter Fifteen

Syaoran slept, but only briefly. Every time he closed his eyes, fragmented nightmares intruded on his subconscious mind, laced with guilt as a wine glass might be laced with cyanide.

"I don't want to go back yet," he murmured, awake again, after Kurogane brought him a jacket from the front of the store. He didn't expect a response to his comment, so he was surprised when Kurogane grunted in agreement.

The new jacket was surprisingly nice. Soft, with faux fur lining the inside and storing his body heat while the coarse outer shell blocked wind and snow. Syaoran zipped the jacket up, glad he wouldn't have to venture out again to buy one. It seemed like every time he left the apartment, he got injured somehow.

_My choices are between getting myself killed in the outside world or isolating myself in my room, _he thought. Spending seven years in a tube had given him a healthy aversion to cramped quarters. Spaces like his closet-sized room were claustrophobic, closed in. Like a prison cell.

He hated his room, hated the thought of returning to it. Yet there was no place for him in this unfamiliar city, in this unfamiliar world. Certainly not with Fai or Sakura. Yet straying too far from Mokona carried its own risks. It wasn't as if he could just leave, even if Kurogane would come with him.

Syaoran shook his head, shocked at the direction of his thoughts. He still had a job to do, still had a Sakura of his own waiting for him, somewhere, on some plane of existence he couldn't reach without help. She was waiting for him. Somewhere.

Somewhere. But not here. Not in this world where every tick of the clock ached like pressure on a bruise.

Instead of going back, he followed Kurogane with little regard for their destination, only slightly worried about the moment when they'd wander out of Mokona's translation range and lose contact. In a way, he wanted that, too. A way of isolating himself without sitting in that tiny, cramped room. But even that was too much to hope for.

He felt . . . lost.

Kurogane stopped rather abruptly, and Syaoran reeled back to keep from running into him. Automatically, he tensed, figuring some threat had triggered Kurogane's sudden stop. Only when he saw the ninja's relaxed posture did he allow himself to calm.

The ninja turned toward him, his expression speculative. "Hey, you can read this world's language, right?"

"Yes. Is there something you want me to read?" That was odd. Kurogane had had no problems signing up for chess matches. Syaoran had assumed his written language was much the same as Infinity's.

"No. But there's a bookstore over there, if you want to go."

Without a conscious command, Syaoran's lips stretched into a smile. He banished it from his face as swiftly as he could. "I shouldn't. I tend to lose myself in the books. You'd get bored, watching me."

Kurogane shrugged. "When I worked for Tomoyo, I'd stand around for hours waiting for assassins. I think I've conquered boredom."

Syaoran smiled again, the expression lingering this time. How like Kurogane, to treat boredom as if it was something that could be conquered. "Is it really all right? If we go, I mean."

Kurogane shrugged. "If nothing else, the bookstore will close and you'll have to leave with whatever you find."

Syaoran could almost hear the reasoning behind Kurogane's offer: _We might as well go, because neither of us want to go back to the apartment. _Despite that, it was a strange sort of relief to realize Kurogane preferred his company over that of their other companions, at least for the moment. "All right. Where is it?"

Kurogane started forward, then paused when they reached the street, waiting for the line of cars to pass by. Syaoran mused about how his blood would've looked splattered over the front bumper of the car that had nearly run him down an hour ago. In the dark, it might've been indistinguishable from the street grime crusted to every car by the snow.

They crossed the street, Kurogane glancing back every few seconds as if to make sure he wasn't going to throw himself into traffic. When Syaoran saw the twinkling lights of the bookstore, he focused all his energy on not running ahead and abandoning Kurogane in the street. By the time they reached the door, he was practically bouncing in excitement.

"Go nuts," Kurogane told him, gesturing toward the expansive shop.

Syaoran took that as an order.

* * *

Kurogane had never seen the kid this happy.

He'd seen the other kid—the one he'd mentored, the one who'd betrayed them—this happy, but never _this _Syaoran. It surprised him, when he watched, just how easy it was to remove the weight from this kid's shoulders.

Syaoran flitted from shelf to shelf, plucking books from their places and paging through them with an almost unnatural efficiency. Despite the kid's quick replacement of books, the very act of reading seemed to enthrall him the same way a good fight sang in Kurogane's blood.

Smiles were rare in Nihon, where showing too much emotion was akin to weakness and where every display carried a thousand shades of meaning. Since the beginning of this journey, he'd come to realize that the same reservations were not held by most other places. Genuine smiles had grown scarce since Tokyo, replaced either by withering glances or false caricatures of happiness. Of all of them, it was the boy who smiled the least. It was strange to see him in such good spirits, strange to think something so simple could make him so happy.

Kurogane was content to watch, content with the fact that Syaoran was comfortable enough with his presence to forget he was there as he browsed through hundreds of books. Over an hour passed, but Kurogane no more lost interest in watching the boy than the boy lost interest in reading. When the speakers warned of the store closing, Syaoran scooped up his three-foot-tall pile of books and turned back to him, smiling apologetically.

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just have to pay for these. Be right back." The kid swept through the narrow passages between shelves, graceful despite the load in his arms. The mousy woman running the counter balked when she saw the stack, but started scanning the books with a look of pleasant surprise.

Kurogane had never liked to read much, himself. His parents had taught him, of course, and it was easy enough, but he'd never been interested in written words, especially when compared to the adrenaline rush of a sparring match. But he understood the merit of reading, the way it sharpened the mind as physical exercise sharpened the body. The kid probably knew random facts beyond count, and Kurogane didn't doubt his love of books had fostered his unusual maturity.

The kid understood. He'd lived a thousand lifetimes through such texts, and he understood enough of them to make it through this. Kurogane was sure of that.

Syaoran finished paying for his books, then returned to him, now carrying a paper bag in each hand. "Okay, we can go."

They left.

The temperature outside had dropped considerably since they'd come in. The peacefulness of the night was gone, replaced with the eerie howl of the wind. Kurogane gritted his teeth against the cold, facing it head-on while the kid kept behind him, determining the severity of the weather from behind a barrier.

It struck Kurogane then just how different this kid was from the one that had left them. This kid was much more cautious than the other one, his desire to accomplish his goals tempered by hard experience. He was also more reclusive, holing up in his room instead of trying to mend the fissure in their group. Even if his habits and drive matched his clone's, this Syaoran was an entirely separate person.

"You're different," he finally said, as they rounded the corner and started down the street where their apartment was located.

Syaoran glanced up, eyebrows pulling together in apparent confusion.

Kurogane explained. "You have a lot of the same habits, but you're not like the other kid. You're more cautious, not as trusting." _More adult._

Syaoran stared at him for a few seconds, eyes wide, lips parted. He opened his mouth, then closed it. When he decided to speak, his voice was soft, barely audible over the moaning wind. "Do you mean that?"

"I mean everything I say."

A smile curved up Syaoran's lips, softer than the cheerful grin he'd worn at the bookstore, but deeper somehow. Genuine and satisfied. "Thank you."

Kurogane shrugged. "It's the truth." He tousled Syaoran's hair. "It doesn't change anything. I won't hold the differences against you; you're probably better off being more cautious." _Especially in this world. Especially now._

For some reason, the kid lost his smile. _Oh, shit, _Kurogane thought. _Now he's going to get all depressed again. _

"Kurogane-san . . ."

"Yeah?"

Syaoran hesitated. "I just . . . Have you ever wondered if . . . I don't know how to phrase this, exactly . . ."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow, slowing as they approached the Ephemeral Apartments.

"Do you ever feel like we're trapped in a book, and that the author is just playing with our characters?"

Kurogane blinked. _Maybe taking him to a bookstore was a bad idea. _"What do you mean?"

Syaoran struggled for words. "Just . . . Sometimes, nothing feels real to me. It feels like everything I've experienced so far has been a dream. Like I was never trapped, like I never lived . . . Like I could be erased from existence at any moment. Is that . . . strange, or . . . ?" He trailed off, frowning.

_He's talking about fate, _Kurogane realized.

They'd nearly come to a halt, moving so slowly to prolong the time before they had to return to the apartment, before the ghost of happiness was forced to fade altogether.

When Kurogane didn't answer, the boy went on. "The Other never knew he was a clone—how could he, when Fei Wong Reed had been so careful to keep him from realizing? Yet I've seen memories wiped clean, altered to fit new circumstances. Would it be such a stretch to think that my own memories could be artificial, that I might not even be _real_, or that I might be a clone myself?"

"Even if you were," Kurogane said, trying to pick his words carefully. "that doesn't make you less of a person. You have a mind of your own, and you make your own choices, regardless of who's influenced you or how deeply. You have a heart. You have a life. You should live it, and you should live it for yourself first, before you try to live it for anyone else."

Syaoran's eyes widened. "But Sakura needs—"

"You won't be able to help her if you don't have yourself put together. Until you do, she's at risk." Kurogane buried his hand in the boy's disheveled hair, further tangling it.

"Thank you." Syaoran looked up at him, solemn as ever despite the fact that his hair was in complete disarray.

_For what? _he wondered, just letting his hand rest atop the boy's head.

Syaoran didn't seem inclined to say anything else, and after a minute, they walked through the revolving doors of the Ephemeral Apartments.


	16. Shallow Cuts

_Author's Note:_

_I'm taking some liberties with certain plot events from the manga, since this is technically an AU. Things in this chapter will parallel actual plot events, but I'm rearranging them to fit with this scenario and this pairing._

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

Syaoran drove his heel into his opponent's jaw, hard enough to make the man's head snap back. _That's one, _he thought as the man collapsed. Syaoran turned, seeking out other enemies. As he watched, Fai shredded his opponent's collar, officially removing them from the match. _That's two._

The vampire smiled, a dreamy, disconnected smile. It made the skin on the back of Syaoran's neck crawl. Clearly, their group still wasn't over the trauma of Tokyo.

Either way, they had a fight to finish. Syaoran ran to the center of the chess board, where Kurogane was facing off with the last of their enemies. Their final opponent leaked blood from dozens of shallow cuts, and Kurogane's tournament-approved sword dripped crimson. As Syaoran approached, the ninja took a final swing at the other man, cutting the fabric of his tournament collar and letting the tip of his sword bite into the man's throat.

Kurogane was wearing one of those savage, bloodthirsty smiles he sometimes got during a fight.

"Black Team wins!" shouted the announcer, an automaton rabbit built for judging chess matches.

Syaoran relaxed, letting his heart rate come down. Across the chess board, Sakura disentangled herself from her chains and stood, resting her weight on her good leg. Despite their victory, her face was grim, the corners of her lips slanted downward. There was a coldness in her eyes that made her seem more robotic than the automaton refereeing the match.

She was iron. She was steel. She refused to look at him.

Syaoran pretended to examine his weapons, letting the audience roar their approval from the stands. A few feet away, he heard Fai talking about their sixth consecutive victory, and the advancement of their rank. They'd be fighting higher-profile teams from now on.

_It'll be more dangerous that way, _Syaoran thought. _I'll have to make sure I'm ready for that. _

"Let's collect our winnings and get out of here," Kurogane said, still radiating satisfaction after their victory.

They headed to the elevator on the edge of the arena and ascended until they reached the lobby. While Fai spoke to the receptionist, Syaoran took a moment to look at Sakura.

She was facing away from him, her sunset-colored hair unruffled, her posture stiff and perfect. Her hands were clasped in front of her body, her head tilted up slightly as she watched Fai collect their winnings. She was, in that moment, the picture of patience and control.

The image festered inside him. Even if this Sakura was just a clone of his Sakura, she had retained much of her blueprint's personality. Both Sakuras were exceptionally kind, but also outgoing, living every moment with verve and appreciation. To see her standing so calm and empty cut him deeper than he wanted to admit.

_She's not yours, _he reminded himself. _And if she manages to restore the Other's soul somehow, she'll get better. _He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. His Sakura was waiting for him somewhere; he would keep looking for her, no matter how isolated he felt.

Kurogane nudged his shoulder, pulling him from his reverie. Syaoran looked up, startled. When he saw the pity on the ninja's face, he flinched.

Kurogane laid a hand on his shoulder as he looked away. Syaoran shrugged it off.

"This should carry us through the rest of the month," Fai said as he held up the check. He turned to Sakura, pasting a smile across his face. "I'll cash this tomorrow, and then we can go shopping."

"Sure," she said, looking at the vampire. Her gaze wasn't quite as cold as usual, but it was still distant.

Syaoran returned his attention to the floor, following the others as they started for the doors. He pulled his coat over his body, zipping it up. It had been three weeks since he'd acquired it, three weeks since he'd been able to forget, however briefly, their dismal situation.

It felt so strange that the relief hadn't come from Sakura's once-sunny disposition. Wrong somehow, as if he was betraying both Sakuras by finding solace in someone else's company. Yet still, he wished he could forget everything again, even for a moment.

His coat may have kept the piercing wind at bay, but he couldn't pretend it shielded him from the bitter, cold air rolling down Sakura's back. The desert princess had turned to ice.

The Ephemeral Apartments weren't far from the arena. One of the only good things about the place, really. They walked through the lobby in silence and descended to their basement-level apartment. Everyone took their places, setting aside money, stripping off shoes and other unnecessary accessories, hanging coats on the hooks by the door. Tonight's match had been fairly low-key, so there weren't any injuries grave enough to need treatment.

"I'm going to bed," Sakura announced, finally breaking the strained silence.

Fai tried to smile. Syaoran could tell he was trying. But there was no spark of happiness, no twinkle in his eye. "I'll tuck you in," Fai said.

"I've got it," Sakura said. The words surprised Syaoran. Usually, she had no qualms about talking to the magician. But Fai let it go easily enough, only frowning as Sakura started for her room.

She was almost there when her toe caught on the edge of the rug. She pitched forward, shock flitting across her face. Her arm shot forward, as if seeking something to grab onto.

Syaoran reacted instinctively, throwing himself forward and catching her hand to stabilize her before she could crack her skull on the doorframe. Her head whipped around, her jade eyes wide. For the first time in weeks, her cheeks were flushed, alive, her expression contorted into something besides emptiness.

He could see why his clone had fallen in love with her. Even in a panic, she radiated life.

Once she was steady, she extricated her hand from his and stepped back, flustered. All at once, her startled mask crumbled, the distress and suffering laid bare at last.

She was hurting. She was hurting just as much as he was, and this proved it.

Her face smoothed over, returning to its impassive mask. She pulled her hand away, and he let it drop. "Thank you," she said slowly, retreating into her bedroom. "But you don't have to worry about me."

Syaoran bit his lip to keep his mouth shut. There were a number of things he wanted to say to that, foremost being the fact that yes, he _did _have to worry about her, and no, it wasn't out of some misplaced sense of duty. But saying so would benefit neither of them.

"And I want . . ." Her voice was hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she should speak. Syaoran leaned forward, listening intently. "I want you to have your freedom."

Shock jolted through him, sharp and sweet. _My freedom? _

She closed the door, leaving him standing there, struggling to comprehend her meaning. He stared at a spot on the floor, unable to look back at his traveling companions.

Fai spoke. "I should go to bed, too. I've got shopping to do tomorrow, after all."

Several seconds passed. Fai picked up Mokona and carried her into the room he shared with Kurogane. Syaoran started toward his closet-sized bedroom, only to feel a slight pressure on his shoulder; he glanced back at Kurogane, standing behind him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. _Apart from everything that's normally wrong? _

"No. Why don't you stay up a while longer?"

It didn't sound like a request so much as an order. Syaoran shrugged, still unused to the freedom of movement in his healed shoulder. He'd finally been able to remove the brace, and now he could move normally.

Kurogane walked several paces, into the kitchen, and pulled a bottle of liquor from the shelf beside the refrigerator. Syaoran stared at the green bottle in surprise, only partially aware of the clink of glassware as Kurogane selected two shot glasses from the cupboard.

"Can you drink?" Kurogane asked, setting the bottle on the coffee table.

"The other me was able to drink, so—"

Kurogane made a noise of annoyance. "I asked if _you _could drink."

Syaoran froze. The distinction—the ninja's acknowledgment that he was different from his clone—set his heart pounding erratically. Always, he was an afterthought. Always, he was the one who had to seek out human contact. That someone besides Mokona had actually thought about him stirred an unfamiliar rush of emotion in him, leaving him dazed.

Then again, Kurogane had reached out to him more than any of the others. Perhaps it was wrong to be so surprised—wrong to assume the ninja considered him an afterthought.

Perhaps, if he worked at it, he could rebuild the shattered remnants of his clone's friendships, this time with himself at the center.

Kurogane was still waiting for an answer. Syaoran hurried to the couch and sat down, looking at the ninja for guidance. It shocked him when Kurogane actually smiled and handed him a glass. "Here."

He cradled the tiny shot glass in his hands, like he might hold a bird with broken wings. Kurogane sat down beside him, sprawling across the sofa like a jungle cat stretching out in the tall grass. With one quick motion, the ninja downed his first shot.

Syaoran looked back at his own glass, watching the ice circle in the pale liquid. After a moment of indecision, he lifted the glass to his lips and let the liquor burn down his throat. _Maybe I could forget, _he thought. _Maybe for one night, I could forget everything that's happened. _

Kurogane poured each of them another shot. Syaoran downed this one much the same as he had the first, wishing the alcohol would hit his system faster, wishing everything could go away except for the refreshing burn of liquor.

"Pace yourself, kid. You haven't built up a tolerance yet."

He set his glass on the coffee table, hanging his head between his knees. "I'm fine."

"You'd say you were fine even if someone lit you on fire."

Syaoran smiled at that. Kurogane poured them each another shot, watching him as he did so. His red eyes were intent, focused. Not hazy with the effects of the alcohol, at least not yet.

Syaoran took the glass. Kurogane nudged his arm; he glanced over, confused. "Don't worry too much about the princess right now," Kurogane said. "She'll learn to deal with it."

Syaoran looked at his feet. His socks, like the rest of his wardrobe, were black. "I know."

Kurogane moved his hand to his drink. Syaoran followed suit, downing his third glass of liquor in under five minutes. This time, he let the alcohol settle for a minute before setting his glass down for a refill. _I'm going to be really drunk in a few minutes, _he thought. In fact, he already felt a little hazy, like the corners of the room weren't quite lining up the way they were supposed to.

"Thanks for this," he murmured. "It's been a long time . . . since anyone cared."

Kurogane rested a hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades. The touch said more than any words could have.

"I don't remember much of my life before I was imprisoned," Syaoran said, measuring every word. The hand on his back tensed. "The important stuff, I guess. My name, my sharpest memories. But mostly I remember what I saw through the Other's eyes." He frowned. "Is it wrong to feel jealous? That he got to spend time with his princess, or that he never had to worry about her until the day she lost her memories?" His frown deepened. "I guess that's a stupid of me, huh. But I can't . . . It hurts sometimes." _I knew her seven days before she was marked for death. The Other knew her seven years before he ever had to worry about her._

"You'll be all right. You're strong."

_No. It won't be all right. Nothing will be all right. _"What if I don't want to be?"

Kurogane stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What if I don't want to be strong?" he asked, forgetting the glass in front of him. "What if I want to be weak? I can't, not even for a second. I'm strong because I have to be, because I can't ever be vulnerable or weak."

"Why would you _want _to be weak?"

_Because the strong take care of the weak, and I need someone to take care of me. _He didn't say it; it was too shameful. Instead, he turned away, swiping his drink from the table and bringing it to his lips. Fire bloomed in the back of his throat, stretching into his stomach. He tilted his head back, letting the warmth snake its way through him.

"Kid. Hey."

"Sometimes, I wish I could forget her," he admitted, closing his eyes. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't have a duty to uphold, or anyone to look after. I just . . . I wish I could forget, even for a moment."

"Kid . . ."

Syaoran said nothing, just letting his body go limp as the liquor worked its way into his bloodstream.

"Kid. Don't . . . You don't have to . . ." Kurogane trailed off, seeming at a loss. He sighed and moved his hand to Syaoran's back again. "All right."

Syaoran opened his eyes. "All right?" _What does _that _mean? _

"Forget then," Kurogane said. There was no malice in his voice, no disapproval. Syaoran wondered if the alcohol was affecting the ninja more than usual. Kurogane was the last person he would've expected to accept something like that. "Just lie back and forget for a while."

Syaoran almost asked him why—why would the ninja allow such a blatant lapse on his part? But the words slurred in his mind, and within seconds, the question and its potential answers were meaningless to him. He relaxed into the cushions, closing his eyes against the uneven lilt in his thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, kid."

"Will you . . ." He tried to focus, so the words wouldn't come out slurred. "Will you take care of me? I don't think anyone else will."

There was a beat of silence. Kurogane sighed again. "Sure, kid. Now relax."

Syaoran leaned his head against the ninja's shoulder, aching for comfort. It was only minutes before he fell asleep.


	17. Request

Chapter Seventeen

It was cold.

That was the first thing Syaoran became aware of when he woke. Memories of the previous night—of Kurogane's promise to take care of him, of the liquor burning down his throat, the warmth of the ninja's hand on his back—rushed back to him, distorted by the alcohol he'd consumed.

_Kurogane must've brought me back to my room, _he thought, crawling out of bed. An ache grew in his temple, but it wasn't nearly as bad as what he remembered of his clone's hangover in Outo. He got up and dressed in fresh clothes. He'd fallen out of his habit of hoarding food to avoid his traveling companions, which meant he had to venture out during the day to eat, which required him to wear something clean, even if it was practically identical to the rest of his outfits.

The living room was empty when he entered, as was the kitchen. Syaoran shuffled over to the refrigerator and pulled the gallon of milk from the door, planning to make cereal. It was quick, and perhaps if he ate fast enough, he could slip away unseen.

Just as he was pouring the milk over the chocolate cereal, Fai walked in. The vampire glanced at him, as if startled to see him. As if he was an intruder instead of an ally.

Syaoran didn't know what bothered him more: Fai's unease around him, or how quickly he'd gotten used to it. He kept his head down, imagining an invisible wall between himself and the magician.

As usual, as soon as one person was up, the rest of the apartment bloomed with life. Sakura trudged out of her room, rubbing her eyes. Kurogane entered, glaring at the floor as if he couldn't fathom why he was awake at this hour.

It was all routine, all normal.

It hurt to watch.

Syaoran ate quickly, stomach bunching up under the oppressive silence of his companions. Every word spoken between them was the product of necessity. There were no polite "good mornings" or meaningless chatter. All words not directly related to the next chess match or the distribution of chores went unspoken, leaving their splintering family to sit in silence most of the time.

_It's my fault, _he thought. _If I had only made it to Tokyo a few minutes sooner, I might've been able to do something._

He sighed, then bit his lip at the whisper of sound it made. A moment later, he sensed someone watching him and looked up to see Kurogane staring at him from across the room.

Something passed between them, like a silent conversation. Concern flickered across the ninja's face. With an infinitesimal movement, Syaoran shook his head. He could endure the silence. He'd endured it for weeks, he could endure it now.

Kurogane's mouth settled into a frown, the line of his jaw hardening with disapproval. Syaoran tensed, bowing his head and returning his attention to the bowl of cereal in front of him. Every interaction was a careful dance, simultaneously polite and cold. Syaoran could only assume the look of disapproval was a direct result of a misstep on his part, a cue that he'd faltered in his dance. The ninja didn't _want _him to deny his suffering, but his own nature, and the presence of the others, prevented him from remarking on it.

They'd reached a stalemate.

* * *

The day passed uneventfully until the mage took Sakura out to stretch her legs. "We're stocking up for the week, so we'll be gone for a couple hours," Fai said, hovering by the door as Sakura shuffled to his side. Kurogane perceived her slight limp, noting that it was not quite as obvious as it had been a few weeks ago. Her daily excursions with the mage were helping.

Fai didn't wait for a response. As soon as Sakura was at his side, he opened the door and stepped out, leaving Kurogane to wait, bored, in the apartment.

It took only minutes for Kurogane to decide he had no intention of sitting around in this hell-hole any more than necessary. He walked to the kid's door and knocked lightly. "You awake, kid?"

He must've been, because a moment later, the door came open with a creak, and the boy peered out. "Is something wrong?"

Kurogane made a sound of annoyance. Why did the kid just _assume _something was wrong whenever someone spoke to him? Why, when the two of them had supposedly come to an understanding, did the boy construe his appearance as something negative, something that indicated discontent or danger? "Nothing's wrong," Kurogane said, more sharply than he'd intended.

"Oh."

He sighed. "You said you wanted someone to take care of you. That's what I'm doing now."

The boy's shoulders curled inward, as if the assertions of one drunken night embarrassed him now. Granted, the kid had been pretty hammered by that point, but still, it wouldn't kill him to make up his mind.

"You want to spar?" Kurogane asked.

Syaoran's head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on his face for the first time since he'd opened the door. Brittle hope warred with uncertainty on his face; he took half a step forward. "Can I?"

"I offered. You don't have to ask permission."

Something flickered across the boy's face, disappearing too soon to be identified. This time, his reply was more confident. "Yes."

Kurogane nodded and picked Souhi from where it leaned against the wall. "Good. Follow me."

They left the apartment, each pausing only to don their coats. The kid seemed preoccupied with his jacket, though it took Kurogane a few minutes to figure out why. _That was the first time someone's given him something since he met us. Of course it means something to him._

There was a park not far from their apartment building. Kurogane decided it had ample space for a sparring match; he selected a patch relatively devoid of snow and drew his sword. "You remember how this works?"

Syaoran nodded. "I remember."

"All right." He took a breath as the kid summoned his sword to his hands in a burst of flame. When Kurogane was ready, he darted forward and brought Souhi down. Steel collided with steel in a song of violence, the blades connecting and separating in rapid bursts of movement.

The kid had learned a lot through his clone's memories, it seemed. Kurogane recognized his own techniques—less refined, but still practiced, automatic—in the boy's movements. But there were other things there, things Kurogane hadn't taught the other kid, things this one had either picked up or, more likely, learned before being sealed away for seven years.

It was far from an even fight, but it was closer than any match between him and the other kid. Kurogane parried each blow, getting used to this kid's way of attack. When the opportunity presented itself, he let loose a counterattack, always stopping short of injuring the boy. This was a sparring match, not a fight, and anything more than a few shallow cuts would do neither of them any good.

Several minutes in, Kurogane noticed a change in the boy's movements. Every blow grew progressively rigid and powerful, the fight turning brutal in every way except in terms of damage caused. Curious, the ninja let the fight develop, letting the harder blows slide off Souhi. Sweat beaded on the boy's forehead, his face growing flushed with exertion.

Seeing an opening, Kurogane lunged forward, catching the hilt of the boy's sword and deflecting his attack. The movement threw Syaoran off balance; he staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling into the snow bank. The ninja took advantage of the boy's mistake and pinned him where he lay, letting the tip of Souhi's blade rest just above his carotid artery.

The boy froze, not reacting, not even breathing. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated. The color had drained out of his face, leaving his cheeks pale. His hands trembled, whether from the cold or from fear, it was impossible to say.

Kurogane withdrew his sword and extended a hand toward the boy. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran took it. "You're afraid of me," Kurogane said simply.

The boy's head snapped up, shock flitting across his face.

Kurogane explained. "You fight as if your life depends on it, even when you're fighting me." _You must realize I wouldn't hurt you without good reason. _"And your face is as easy to read as a book, especially when you're vulnerable."

Sorrow touched the boy's expression, and for just a moment, he _looked _as old as he claimed to be. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry," he snapped. Syaoran flinched, but said nothing. After a few seconds, Kurogane sighed. "Are you ready to go back?"

The kid nodded, not meeting his gaze. Kurogane sheathed his sword, while the boy's disappeared in a puff of fire. They started for the apartment, walking in silence. The boy stayed close to his side, head down. Every few steps, the ninja caught the Syaoran's eyes straying up to his face. The one time they made eye contact, Syaoran jerked his head down, as if feigning disinterest would make the ninja forget about his existence.

When they finally stepped into their apartment, Kurogane stopped and turned to the boy. "Okay, _what_?"

"Nothing," the boy answered, too quick, as he edged toward his bedroom. Kurogane pressed his hand against the wall, his arm acting as a barrier between the boy and his hideout.

"Just spit it out. I know you have something to say."

The boy stiffened, drawing his arms around his torso as if to shield himself. His gaze had focused in on Kurogane's face, but his eyes seemed somehow distant, as if he was too lost in his musings to respond.

Kurogane waited.

Eventually, the kid spoke. "If you don't want me to be sorry . . . What do you want?"

He snorted. "What does it matter to you?"

"It matters."

"I don't want anything from you."

It wasn't until Syaoran closed his eyes that Kurogane realized how that must've sounded. He sighed. "Before you worry about that, what do _you _want?"

"Nothing . . ." Syaoran mumbled, cheeks flaring pink. Kurogane studied the change for a long moment, gears turning in his head. _He wants something. He has to, otherwise he wouldn't act like this. _Slowly, thinking, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingers across the boy's neck, watching for a reaction. Syaoran's breathing increased in tempo. _There's no way. He was acting out. There's no way he's really thought about this._ Kurogane let his fingers trail further down the boy's neck, to the hollow of his throat. The kid leaned closer, closing his eyes in surrender.

_No. He's not just acting out, _Kurogane realized, heart jumping in his chest. _He needs this, and he needs to stop being ashamed of it. _"Does this make it better?" he asked, keeping his voice soft, non-threatening. The kid's eyes flashed open, meeting his gaze. A thousand emotions swam through those brown eyes, the most dominant being shame and guilt and fear.

Syaoran didn't say anything. Kurogane brushed his thumb across the kid's jaw. Syaoran shuddered. If he hadn't known better, he might've thought the kid was in pain. "Listen," Kurogane said, cupping the side of Syaoran's face. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ "It's okay. Whatever you ask of me, it's fine, but you have to _ask_, got it?"

The boy said nothing, but a frantic desperation sparked in his eyes. Kurogane released him, stepping back and waiting for a response, a plea, anything. Syaoran continued to watch him, as if he was afraid the moment he asked for something, Kurogane would reject it out of hand.

_And haven't you? _whispered that insidious, self-destructive part of his mind. _Why should he believe you, when you've pushed him away every time he's tried to ask for something?_

Still, the boy was silent, back pressed against the wall as if to put as much distance between them as possible. If Kurogane hadn't been listening so intently, he would've missed the words that fell from his lips.

"Will you . . . kiss me?"


	18. Not Once

Chapter Eighteen

As soon as Syaoran said it, he wished he hadn't. It was too much to ask, even of someone he knew intimately. Certainly too much to ask for now. He backpedaled. "But only if you want to, and only if . . . only if you're really okay with it. Only if you mean it . . ." He bit his lip, staring off to the side, at a crack in the opposite wall. _He can't mean it. He can't. He would've never offered if he'd realized that's what I would ask for. He was only trying to help me. I'm so stupid. I'm so selfish. _

The lightest pressure on his cheek made him look up. His breath caught as he registered the ninja's expression, but it wasn't fear that crippled his lungs. Kurogane wound his fingers through his hair, pulling him away from the wall. In the intensity of the moment, Syaoran hadn't even realized he'd retreated against the cold sheetrock.

"Is this okay?" Kurogane asked, pulling him close. The movement brought his face so close to the ninja's, he could feel the caress of Kurogane's breath against his cheeks.

Anguish twisted through him, mingling with the shame, the fear. _How can I be this selfish?_ "I'm scared," he whispered, so quietly, it was a miracle Kurogane even heard him.

"It doesn't have to change anything. Whatever happens after this is up to you."

Syaoran shivered. He could feel the warmth rolling of Kurogane's skin, the electricity humming between their bodies. _Doesn't have to change? How can he know? How can he promise that? _

Kurogane's hand moved down his back, fingers following the ridge of his spine. The touch sent sparks of sensation down the rest of his body. It took him a few seconds to remember how to breathe. _He says things can stay the same, even if we do this. He's never lied to me before, so it doesn't make sense for him to start now. Even so . . ._

"Do you still want this?" Kurogane asked. This close, it only took a whisper to be heard.

"What about the others?"

"They won't be back for a while."

Syaoran swallowed thickly, watching the ninja's face for any sign of disapproval. Surely, Kurogane was just humoring him. Playing along with his selfishness out of some sense of duty. But if he was, Syaoran couldn't tell from his face. The look there was warm, almost tender.

It could've been pity, but even that was better than the disgust he'd expected. Syaoran took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

Kurogane's hand moved across his ribs, easing him backward until his shoulders touched the wall. Kurogane's palms drifted to his shoulders, gently pinning him where he stood. Syaoran tilted his head back, unsure what to do. Cautiously, he lifted his hands to Kurogane's torso, withdrawing slightly as he felt the man tense. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. _He's really going to do it, _he thought, lungs seizing up. Logic warred with desperation, twisting inside him until the only thing that remained was chaos.

Then, as gentle as the caress of a summer breeze, Kurogane kissed him.

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd been conditioned to think of kissing as something intimate, something sacred, or perhaps it was the natural rush of hormones that came with this too-young body. Either way, as soon as he felt the ninja's lips against his, the rational part of his mind faded to nonexistence and he leaned into the kiss. Pleasure surged from the crown of his head to his toes, twisting in on itself until it ignited a circuit of elation inside his body. It felt as if all the lightning of a summer storm had been trapped in his flesh, but rather than causing him pain, it burned away all the painful feelings that had been festering inside him for months.

Nothing else mattered except the sensation. Not the Sakura traveling with him, or the real Sakura, wherever she was. Not Fai, who would be shocked to see this. Not the next chess match. Not his clone, despite the damage he was likely causing even while he stood here. Nothing mattered anymore, except _this_.

Kurogane was exceedingly gentle, his touch like an ember instead of an inferno. Warm, and still capable of destroying him at the slightest provocation, but gentle.

Kurogane's hands trailed down his arms, raising bumps on his skin. Syaoran shivered, edging closer, fingers curling around the fabric of the ninja's shirt. His lips parted, breaking the kiss.

When it was over, Kurogane looked at him. The determination in his eyes had softened, but the resolve remained. Kurogane brushed a stray strand of hair away from Syaoran's face. His fingertips lingered on the side of Syaoran's face.

Syaoran looked back, unsure how to respond. Did he offer thanks? Were they just supposed to look at each other? Was he supposed to say something else?

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "So?"

"So . . ." His voice quavered.

"Do you feel better? Worse?"

"I . . ." He hesitated. "It was . . . It was how I imagine it would feel to get hit by lightning, except it didn't hurt. I think that's good . . . right?"

"Sure, kid."

The nickname snapped him back to his normal mindset, and suddenly, the kiss felt like a dream, instead of undeniable reality. His heart hammered against his ribs, as if it was trying to tear its way free of him. _That__ really happened, _he thought, lifting his fingertips to his lips. _We really kissed. _

"Hungry?"

Syaoran's head snapped up. "Huh?"

Kurogane stood by the refrigerator, holding the door open. "I'm going to eat. You want anything?"

Syaoran blinked rapidly, trying to come back from his momentary high. The sheer normalcy of the question made it sound strange somehow. It took him a few moments to process the words, and even then, he couldn't think of an answer.

Kurogane pulled a gallon of milk out of the refrigerator, smelled it, then set it on the counter, evidently accepting it as drinkable. A moment later, he opened the freezer and pulled out something this world referred to as "pizza."

"Kid? You going to eat or not?"

_Did I just imagine that whole thing? _Syaoran wondered, heart sinking. _But . . . No, that was too real to be an illusion. Unless I'm insane. I could be hallucinating._

Kurogane sighed. "If you're wondering: yes, that did just happen, and no, it doesn't change anything unless you want it to."

Syaoran blinked, watching the ninja for any sign that this was a joke. Kurogane merely went about his lunch preparations, seeming completely unaffected. "Is it . . . Is it really that simple? We don't . . . You won't . . ."

The ninja sliced the plastic off the frozen pizza with the tip of Souhi's blade. "I won't ask for anything in return. That's not how this works, got it? I'm here whenever you need me, no matter what, but I won't ask you to pay a price for this. I'm not the witch."

_But there's always a price. _"I . . . I don't mind if you do . . . or if you want me to . . ."

"This is up to you. You ask and you offer, of your own accord. That's the deal."

Syaoran gulped. "That's . . . That's a lot of faith you're putting in me."

For the first time, Kurogane looked up at him. His eyes were tranquil. He shrugged, as if it didn't matter to him how much power he was handing over. _As if he trusts me, _Syaoran thought. A surge of warmth accompanied the thought, flooding his whole body.

Another thought occurred to him just then, bursting through his lips without his permission. "What about Sakura? What should I—" He broke off, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

Kurogane looked at him thoughtfully, and Syaoran sensed that this had crossed his mind at some point. "This is between the two of us. It's a different kind of relationship than you're used to thinking about. It's not supposed to be exclusive unless you want it to be."

"Do they _have _relationships like this in your world?"

At this, Kurogane frowned. "Not exactly like this."

"But it's . . . it's okay?"

"Yes." He put the pizza in the oven and turned the dial to start heating it up. After a few moments, Kurogane spoke again. "You never did say if you were planning on having lunch."

"I . . . Yes. I think that's a good idea. I'll set the table." He hurried to the cupboard to pick out the appropriate dishes. He set two plates on the circular dining table, then headed to the drawer to look for a pizza cutter.

It wasn't until he finished setting the table that he realized he hadn't thought of Sakura during the kiss. Not once.


	19. Vulnerable

Chapter Nineteen

"I was wondering . . ."

Kurogane glanced up from his plate, swallowing what was in his mouth. Across the table, the boy studied his pizza the same way he might study an antique. "What is it?" Kurogane asked.

Syaoran's voice was low, hesitant. "Why did you offer? I thought . . . I thought you would hate me for even thinking about something like that, so why give me the power to ask for it?"

"Because," he said flatly. _Because you needed it, and I couldn't watch you suffer anymore. _The line of his jaw hardened. Every reason, every justification his mind came up with, was nothing more than a barrier against the self-loathing he ought to have been feeling for taking advantage of the kid while he was so desperate.

Syaoran arched an eyebrow. "That's not a reason."

"No, it's not." His fingers curled into fists on the table. A low breath hissed through his teeth."You needed it, and you needed to stop feeling ashamed of it."

Syaoran looked down. Blood crept into his cheeks, staining them pink. "I . . . I'm in love with someone else."

Kurogane rolled his eyes. _Like we can't tell._ "The princess?"

The kid flinched. "I was selfish. I asked for too much. I shouldn't have—"

"Relax." He reached forward and rested his hand on top of the boy's hair. Surprise flashed across his face, the pink deepening to red.

"Kurogane-san . . ."

"Are you going to ask me to stay away?" he asked, hating himself for the sharp edge in his voice.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"No. You aren't. If you want to call it off, just say so." _Just say it, and we can put this away for good. _

"But . . ." The boy stood, tense. "What if I ask you to do something you don't want to do? I don't want to . . ." His blush deepened until his face was red enough to be compared to a strawberry.

"You don't want to what?"

"I don't want you to feel obligated to do something for me that's going to make things . . . awkward between us."

_If I didn't want to do something you asked for, all I'd have to do is look disapproving and you'd be backtracking. _Kurogane sighed, expelling all his irritation in one breath. "I don't feel _obligated _to help you. I _want _to help you. And what I'm willing to do isn't going to be an issue, but I'll tell you if it becomes one." All of which was technically true, if from a skewed perspective.

The kid hesitated, then let out a breath. "Okay."

Kurogane unwound his fingers from the boy's hair and tucked his hand in his pocket. "You're a smart kid. You'll figure it out."

"I guess." The kid frowned, eyes flicking up to his face, then stepped back. "I'm going to go read."

"Okay."

Syaoran slipped out of the room, pausing at his door to glance back one last time. When he disappeared, Kurogane stood up and walked over to the bathroom, hoping to get enough hot water for a decent bath. Once the water was running, he checked to make sure he had something to wear after he dried off, then stripped off his dirty clothes, tossing them into the corner. He stepped into the bathtub, drawing the shower curtain closed.

The slippery curtain acted as a sort of barrier against the rest of the world, allowing him to relax for the first time in far too long. For a while, he just breathed, clearing his mind. Years of meditation in Nihon made that relatively easy, though recent events had stirred up a lot of troublesome thoughts. Still, he was able to calm himself within seconds, letting all worldly matters drift away for a while so he could revisit them with a clear head later. After about ten minutes, he allowed himself to think again, allowed himself to worry about the ramifications of what had just happened.

There was no going back; he knew that. Even if the option had been available to him, he wouldn't have gone back—doing so would imply that he'd done something that needed correcting. Besides that, he didn't want to take the authenticity of it away from the kid. Syaoran was smart; he'd realize the impossibility of this kind of relationship on his own, and even if he didn't, he'd grow bored eventually. This development wasn't a mistake so much as a phase. If it got the kid back on his feet, all the better for everyone.

_It wasn't a mistake, _he told himself. _It was impulsive, but it wasn't a mistake. The kid needs to stop being ashamed of what he feels. The best way to do that now is to give him the option. _

He sank deeper into the water, letting his worries drift away like silt in a river.

* * *

Syaoran stood at the window for a long time, staring out at the ice-crusted streets. Cold air emanated from beyond the thin pane of glass, leaching heat from his skin as he stood there. When he sighed, his breath fogged against the window.

For the first time in weeks, he could breathe.

He hadn't been aware he'd been struggling to breathe until the pressure of acting normal had lifted. It was like being reborn, taking that first agonizing, life-giving breath of air. Or like he'd been locked in a closet, running out of oxygen, and finally managed to break out and taste fresh air.

For the first time in years, he felt free.

He still loved his Sakura, of course, and he had every intention of finding her. The kiss didn't change that. Rather, the kiss had changed his perspective. Just because he was in love with someone else didn't mean he had to devote every waking thought to her wellbeing. He could allow himself to feel joy without her. He could allow himself a few moments of weakness, a few moments to be selfish.

Syaoran exhaled softly and opened his window. Cold air rushed in, the wind carrying flecks of snow into his bedroom. The snowflakes caressed his face as they went by, biting at his skin. The cold pierced his lungs with every breath, but the taste of fresh air was so sweet, the pain seemed like a mere afterthought.

After a minute, he closed his window and sat down on his bed, swaddling himself in sheets and picking up one of the books he'd purchased from the bookstore a few weeks ago.

He'd only read a few pages when he heard the front door open. He tensed, adrenaline shooting through his system and sending him into survival mode.

Fai's voice pierced the apartment, loud and unusually lighthearted. "We've got groceries!"

Syaoran forced himself to relax. Fai might resent him, but he wasn't going to attack him.

"We've got cupcakes," Sakura said, having regained some of her previous cheer. Syaoran pressed an ear to the wall. Entering now would upset the fragile dynamic of happiness, but he wanted to share in it as much as he could while it lasted, so he listened.

"We had some money left over from our last match, so we decided to splurge."

If the group had bypassed Tokyo, Fai would've tried to shove one of the desserts in Kurogane's mouth and dodged the retaliatory punches. _If _they had bypassed Tokyo. _If I'd never come, _Syaoran thought.

A moment later, there was a knock on his door. Startled, he ripped his ear from the wall and jumped to his feet. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. Then, he hurried to the door and unlocked it.

Kurogane stood on the other side, haloed in fluorescent light. Syaoran blinked rapidly. "What is it?"

"Come on out. We've got good food."

Syaoran glanced down and saw the line in the cement where his door usually rested. For some reason, that barrier—that inch or so of space between his room and the living room—felt like a vast chasm. _He's asking me to come out? Why? Is this how he wants me to reciprocate for the kiss? _He took a shaky breath. _I can't disappoint him. Not now._

"It's up to you," Kurogane said, shrugging. But there was something in his eyes, something like a challenge. "If you don't want to come out, you don't have to, but you'd be better off for it."

Syaoran took a deep breath. _I can't disappoint him. I have to _try_ to make the others like me, even if they never will. _

He stepped over the threshold and into the living room.


	20. Different

_Author's Notes:_

_Sorry for the long delay. I've been on vacation for the fourth of July, and I just got back an hour ago. Anyway, I managed to make some progress on this fic while I didn't have internet access, and hopefully, updates will be smooth for a while._

Chapter Twenty

The next five days were oddly . . . normal.

Kurogane had made it clear, through brief, subtle exchanges, that Syaoran was to at least attempt to make contact with the others, and while every second ached like pressure on a bruise, a fear of disappointing his closest ally pulled Syaoran to the dinner table almost as often as the others gathered there.

By the third day, he'd plucked up enough courage to speak to Fai. The exchange had been brief, but more direct than anything he'd said the vampire since Tokyo.

"This asparagus is very tender, Fai-san," he'd said, stabbing his fork through one of the long vegetables and lifting it to his lips to avoid meeting Fai's gaze.

He'd still felt the weight of that single eye on his face, still tensed against the ripples of hostility pouring off the vampire's body. But Fai had merely murmured a quick "Thanks," and been done with it.

After dinner, Syaoran caught Kurogane's nod of approval from across the room. He'd been surprised at how _good _it had felt to have the ninja's approval, even if it was over something inconsequential.

Tension had eased considerably since the day Fai and Sakura had returned with cupcakes, but Syaoran doubted the sugary treats were the reason for it. Ever since Kurogane's subtle insistence that he try to act normal, he'd made a point of joining the others for meals, and Fai, at least, was softening because of it.

On the fifth day, something else changed. Rather than starting the conversation, as Syaoran was used to, Fai addressed him. "Syaoran-kun, I need you to climb on top of the refrigerator and clear everything out of the cupboards up there."

In his surprise, Syaoran actually dropped the plate he'd been washing, barely catching it before it hit the edge of the sink. "O-Of course," he stammered, setting aside the soapy dishes and wiping the bubbles off his hands.

"I want to reorganize the cupboards so everything is in easy reach for Sakura-chan," Fai explained, standing on his tiptoes and peering over the top of the refrigerator.

Syaoran nodded; when Sakura left her room for any reason besides the necessities, it was usually because she'd had an urge to cook. Judging from the overall improvement in meal quality, Syaoran had to assume Fai's cooking lessons were paying off as much as his daily walk with Sakura. "You just want me to climb up on the counter and hand stuff to you?"

Fai nodded. "I'd do it myself, but I think I'd hit my head. You're the perfect size for this."

Syaoran glanced at the vampire, startled. Except for fights, he'd assumed he was a rather superfluous addition to their group, at least for this world. Kurogane and Fai could care for Sakura in his absence, and except for some knowledge on foreign languages and cultures, he didn't bring much to the table. To hear he was useful, even for such a menial task, soothed the ache in his heart.

He climbed onto the counter, being careful not to knock over the spice rack Fai had purchased when he'd gone shopping five days ago, and opened the tiny cupboards. They contained several bags of chips, as well as several cans of ingredients they seldom used for cooking.

Syaoran wondered, briefly, why they didn't let Mokona store the canned food. Was there some real estate limit in whatever pocket dimension that existed inside Mokona's stomach? Were the others worried that they'd eventually have to pay some price for all the storage space? _Maybe it's so that if something happens to Mokona, we won't die of starvation between chess matches. _

He frowned, handing a can of tomato paste to Fai. For a while, the only sounds in the kitchen were the _clink _of metal cans colliding with each other on the table and the crinkling of chip bags. "Okay," Syaoran said, hopping off the counter and landing lightly on the linoleum. "Cupboards are empty."

Fai set down the last of the cans and turned to him. Syaoran's eyebrows shot into his hairline as he saw the smile on Fai's face. "Thanks, Syaoran-kun. I've been meaning to clean those cupboards for the longest time."

There was something in that smile, something that cut him deeper than any blade. Syaoran wasn't sure if sorrow was the appropriate adjective—smiles and sorrow seldom showed at the same time. But there was something, and it triggered a flood of guilt in him. "You're welcome," he murmured, edging toward the front door. "I'm going out for a while."

Syaoran donned his coat and stuffed his feet into his shoes. Within seconds, he was out the door.

He passed right through the lobby, pushing through the front doors. Icy wind whipped by his face, slicing through his jeans as if they were made of sheer fabric. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed to the corner, waiting for the blue image of a person to appear on the other side before crossing. They'd had similar street lights in some of the countries Fujitaka had explored with his clone, as well as in the Hanshin Republic. Not in Piffle, though. After all, what use were streets when people just flew around in safer, slower versions of the dragonfly racers?

He kept walking until he came to the park where he and Kurogane had sparred five days ago. Rather than summoning his sword, he kept walking until he reached the pebbled playground in the center of the park. It should've been empty, given the time of year and the late hour, but Syaoran saw several teenagers crowding around a man in a grey sweatshirt. They spoke in low voices, heads turned down. When one of the older teens glanced his way, his face twisted in a glare.

Syaoran dropped his gaze and moved to the other side of the playground. _It's not my business, _he told himself, wincing as every step stirred a landslide of pebbles around his feet. There was no way to be quiet on a playground like this.

Then again, perhaps it was good no one could sneak up on him here, while he was so preoccupied.

He wasn't sure why he'd left so abruptly, except that something about Fai's smile had made him feel horribly guilty. _You should be guilty, _a small part of his mind whispered. _You're the one who turned back time. It's your fault you've got a sociopath for a clone wandering around. You should've let it be. He might've still developed a heart._

With a sigh, Syaoran sat down on one of three playground swings. The chains wore a coat of rust, and were locked into place by ice. The plastic seat looked like a dog had spent the day gnawing on the edges. It didn't matter to him; he was barely aware of the faults as his head dropped into his hands. "What's the matter with you?" he muttered to himself. "Why does everything you do have to blow up in your face?"

No one answered.

Wind howled through the playground, moaning like a dying animal. The swings beside him swayed in the bitter wind, creaking and shedding flecks of snow.

Time passed. The teenagers on the other side of the park left, chatting amongst themselves. Syaoran watched them go, noting the now-cheerful sound of their banter and wondering what could've changed their moods so drastically.

Syaoran pulled his hands from his pockets, and wrapped his fingers around the frozen chains holding the swing up. The metal was so cold, it felt like fire against his skin. He bit his lip, a shaky breath whistling down his throat. The cold air felt like a blow to his lungs, and after a few seconds, he was panting, breathless.

Sometimes, when he opened his window for a bit of fresh air, the cold cleared his mind. Now, it numbed it the same way the cold chains were numbing his fingers. He didn't want to be here anymore, but he didn't think he could go back.

_I'm being irrational, _he told himself. _I have to go back eventually, and I'm only going to get colder by sitting out here. _

Before he could think further than that, a voice cut through the playground. "Hey."

Syaoran's head snapped up, his whole body tensing as he took in the towering figure standing a few feet away from him. Apparently, it _was _possible for someone to sneak up on him in this playground, if that person happened to be a ninja. "Kurogane-san? You followed me here?"

The man shrugged. "You followed me when I stormed off."

Syaoran winced. "I didn't storm off . . ."

Kurogane made a dismissive gesture. "I know. Figured you needed someone to talk to."

Syaoran stirred the pebbles around his feet with his shoe and shrugged.

Fog rose from the ninja's lips as he exhaled. "Talk anyway. It'll help you sort things out."

He bit his lip, trying to think of something that wouldn't put him in hot water. "Fai-san smiled at me." His eyes flickered up to the ninja's face as he tried to determine whether that was a noteworthy accomplishment. Kurogane nodded, encouraging him to go on. "I thought that I'd be relieved when it happened. That I'd feel better, or less guilty. But it felt . . . wrong. That Fai is smiling at _me _now, instead of . . . the Other. And Fai-san used to be happy all the time—it seems wrong that I should be surprised at his smile when my clone would've been surprised at a frown."

Kurogane sighed. "That idiot was never happy. He pretended to be, for the other kid's sake, and the princess's. If he's smiling now, at least it's probably a real smile."

Syaoran blinked rapidly. Fai's smiles had never looked false to him until recently. Had that been because the Other had interpreted the smiles as genuine, or had he grown so used to seeing those old smiles that the new, rare smiles seemed fake to him?

But Kurogane believed what he was saying, and Syaoran had little cause to believe Kurogane had missed something. The ninja understood people the way Syaoran understood books. "Then . . . Then I guess I'm glad."

Kurogane shrugged. "You looked through the other kid's eyes for years—it makes sense for you to mourn over the things that have changed. But don't mistake that for something being wrong. You're different, and the situation is different, so everyone's reactions to you will be different."

Syaoran thought about that for a moment, then rose from the swing. His joints were stiff with cold. "You treat me differently than you treated the Other. It's not as obvious, but you do."

"Tch. I treat you like an _adult_, because you said you were one. Technically."

Syaoran thought about the kiss, thought about Kurogane's certainty that he wouldn't abuse the ninja's offer. _He would've never offered the same to the Other, _Syaoran realized, eyes widening. _My clone would've never needed something like that from him. But me . . . _His heart sped, and he struggled to keep his breathing from doing the same. He bowed his head. "I'm grateful for it."

Kurogane tousled his hair. "Good. Now let's head back."

Syaoran nodded. "Right."


	21. Hollow Arrangement

Chapter Twenty-One

The front door clicked shut as Fai and Sakura left the apartment.

Syaoran exhaled, shoulders relaxing for the first time since he'd retreated into his bedroom this morning. He'd made an appearance at nearly every meal for the past week, and his stress had mounted with every second he spent with the others.

It wasn't that he hated them. He didn't. But putting on a show to prove he could communicate with them was more taxing than avoiding them altogether. _It's supposed to get better, _he thought, wiping spaghetti sauce off the counter. _So why does it feel like it's only getting worse? _

He finished cleaning and draped the washcloth over the faucet. Drops of water clung to the edges of the fabric, dripping into the bottom of the metal sink. Syaoran turned away, ready to head back to his room, and caught sight of Kurogane heading toward the kitchen.

There was a part of him that felt guilty every time he saw one of his traveling companions. Part of that was because he'd arrived in Tokyo too late to do anything useful. But his guilt ran deeper than that. If he hadn't made a wish to turn back time, if he hadn't hesitated when reaching for his Sakura's hand that day in Clow, Fei Wong Reed would never have been able to set his plans in motion, and none of them would have had to sacrifice so much for this journey. Fai wouldn't have lost his eye. His Sakura wouldn't have been cloned, and the Sakura traveling with him wouldn't have suffered through all this to get her memories back. And, as he looked at Kurogane, approaching from the living room, Syaoran realized that the ninja's mother would've never been killed because of their enemy's desire for another protector for Sakura.

_Everything that's happened is my fault. _The thought hit him like a blow. He bowed his head and hurried to his bedroom, desperate to escape the guilt trying to swallow him up. _How can I ask for his affection when it was my wish that caused the disaster in Suwa? How can I ask anything of him, knowing that?_

"Hey, kid."

Syaoran froze, heart quickening. Then, slowly, he turned to face the ninja. "Yes?"

"It's pretty dull around here. You want to spar or something?"

Syaoran blinked, mind flashing back to the last time they'd sparred. Kurogane had said something then, something he hadn't even considered: "_You're afraid of me." _

_Was I? _he wondered. _Was I afraid of him, or was I afraid he'd find out the truth and hate me for it? _"Sure," he said, voice cracking as he grabbed his coat from the hook. He could feel Kurogane's gaze on his back, but he made a pointed effort not to look up. He wasn't sure what to say, now that they were alone together. Unless heading out to spar was Kurogane's way of blocking an unwanted advance.

_He hated it, _Syaoran thought wretchedly, despair mingling with the choking guilt. _He must have. He only kissed me because I asked. I was stupid and selfish, and he hated it. _His eyes burned with saltwater, and he blinked rapidly so tears couldn't leak out. Kurogane would not approve of tears.

"Kid? You okay?"

"I . . . No, not exactly." He turned, taking a deep breath to steady himself. _Say something, _he told himself. _Say something before this goes any farther. _"There's something I need to ask you."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow, setting Souhi aside, as if expecting a long conversation. "What is it?"

"When we . . . When I asked you to kiss me . . . Did you hate it?" _That_, at least, was easier to face than a conversation about how much trauma he'd inadvertently caused the ninja.

Kurogane's eyes widened. Syaoran pressed on.

"If you did . . . I won't be upset. I just want to know if you hated it." He dared to lift his eyes again, then repressed the urge to wince.

Without saying a word, Kurogane stalked over to him and grabbed his upper arm. Syaoran had only a second of warning before the ninja's lips crashed against his, smothering him. Kurogane's free hand snaked around the back of his neck, fingernails trailing down the ridge of his spine. Syaoran gasped as his back hit the wall. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

It was like his nervous system was connected to a power line and there'd been a power surge. _I don't understand, _he thought, endorphins rushing through his bloodstream, even as he denied himself the right to feel pleasure. Kurogane's fingers coiled in his hair, yanking his head back until their lips separated. Heat flooded Syaoran's cheeks as their eyes met. This was so different from the gentle kiss of a week ago. Violence hovered in the space between their bodies, like the air right before a thunderstorm. "W-what—"

"Don't talk."

He closed his mouth, breathing loudly through his nose. Kurogane kept his hold on his arm, pulling him toward the couch. When they reached the sofa, Syaoran hesitated, unsure what to do. Kurogane pushed him back, forcing him to sit. "Listen," Kurogane said, his voice clipped. "I said I'd tell you if our arrangement became a problem. It hasn't. Stop worrying about it."

"I wasn't asking if the _arrangement _was a problem."

There was a pause. Kurogane drew back, watching him with the oddest expression. Belatedly, Syaoran realized just how sharp he'd sounded.

Some part of him knew he ought to feel guilty for his tone. The rest of him was too frustrated, too hurt and angry, to yield to the guilt again. He stood, breathing hard, fists pressed against his thighs. Control. He had to regain control of himself. He exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at the ninja's face again. The height difference was disconcerting—if they had ever been close to the same level in anything, it wasn't this. "I wasn't asking about our arrangement," Syaoran said, keeping his voice level. It still sounded cold. "I wanted to know if you resented me for asking."

Silence resonated between them, as tense as a piano wire.

Finally, Kurogane spoke. "No. I don't."

Syaoran bowed his head, his anger draining away as quickly as it had come. He should've been elated, or at least relieved. Instead, he felt hollow.

_It doesn't matter. Whatever he gives me, it won't mean anything if it stems from a deal. It won't mean anything if it's done out of obligation rather than free will. _

"I release you from every promise you've made to me," Syaoran said. The hollow feeling spread, burying its teeth into his heart. "I release you from any obligation to take care of me, as well as any of our _arrangements_." His lips twisted around the last word. It was so businesslike, so empty. It _hurt_. He took a rapid breath to steady himself. In an odd way, this was more like a breakup than anything he'd ever experienced. The only difference was that this wasn't about ending a broken relationship, it was about keeping an existing friendship from shattering even further.

_My actions have already shattered everybody, _Syaoran thought, turning away and heading for his bedroom. _But all I'm doing is stomping on the broken pieces. This has to stop before things get any worse. _

"Hey!" Kurogane snapped behind him. Syaoran winced, but kept silent. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. His eyes burned, vision blurring as his hand came down on the door handle.

"Boy!" The word was laced with frustration.

Syaoran stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. His hand went to the lock, but his fingers were trembling so much, he almost couldn't turn the deadbolt.

But he did, and as soon as the door was locked, he collapsed to his knees in front of it and let the tears run down his face.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Actually, I apologize for the general shortness of all my chapters. I'm not good at writing long chapters—if I try for even two or three more pages, it takes me much longer to write, for some reason(cases in point: _Reversal of Fate, _and _The Beginning of Existence). _I wanted to leave this chapter here, as writing this particular chapter was like getting teeth pulled, but the next chapter will be longer. And thanks to all those who have reviewed so far. I'm pleasantly surprised by the number of people who are reading this, given that it's such a strange pairing, but your reviews make my day._


	22. Walking Out

Chapter Twenty-Two

Fury seethed in his veins, like dragon-fire. Kurogane stalked over to the door and lifted his fist to pound on the wood. Then he saw the broken hinge from the last time he'd tried to break through the kid's door, and reconsidered his approach.

Anger was easy. Anger had been a familiar companion to him since childhood. It was his first response to any unpleasant stimuli. If the unpleasantness continued, he generally resorted to threats, as he'd done often with the mage before everybody had gotten so serious.

Anger, he thought, was a lot like fire. The severity of the burn was directly related to the intensity of the fire. When fuel was abundant, fire could rage for days, even weeks, destroying everything in its path. So could fury.

Kurogane swallowed it all back, reminding himself that, while he _could _break down the flimsy door, it was unwise to do so, as it would tip off the others to the fact that something had happened. While Kurogane didn't care much about what other people thought, he knew the kid had gone to painstaking lengths to please them recently, by attending meals and persevering through brief, awkward conversations with the others. It was a start. It was a damned good start, after everything that had happened. Kurogane had resolved not to fuck that up.

So instead of knocking the door off its hinges, he tapped the wood with his knuckles. "Kid? You all right?"

No answer.

_Oh, gods, I have no idea how to do this, _Kurogane thought wearily, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the door, eyes closed as he breathed. "If you need me, I'm here." The words felt awkward on his tongue, and he wondered how his parents had repeated that same sentence so many times in his childhood without ever tripping his bullshit detector.

Still no answer. Kurogane stepped away from the door, hoping the kid would realize he meant no harm. The boy had let some of his frustration show(finally), and Kurogane had seen him falter, right at the end of their conversation. The ninja figured if things were bad enough to trigger such a strong reaction, it was worth further investigation.

After a few minutes, he decided any further prodding would alienate the boy. Kurogane sighed and started to turn away from the door.

A soft sound stopped him. It was like the creak of a loose floorboard, but too drawn out. His hand went to his hip, his body preparing for a fight at the unfamiliar sound, before he realized Souhi was still leaning up against the opposite wall, where he'd left it. He bit back a curse—he'd never been this careless in Tomoyo's service. His weapon had never been out of arm's reach. Now it was across the room, too far away to do him any good in the event of an intruder.

He heard the sound again, slightly louder than before, but not loud enough that it would've drawn his attention had he been distracted. It was a strangely human noise, like breathing, but strained and hoarse. Keeping his senses alert for threats, he edged toward Syaoran's bedroom. The sound grew clearer, but it wasn't until he was inches from the door that he recognized it.

Syaoran was crying.

_I made him cry. _

The anesthetizing shock wore off after just a moment, turning to horror. The kid was tough. He didn't _cry_.

Or did he? How many times had the kid slunk back to his room, hiding his tears? How long had he been suffering like this?

"Kid? Come on out."

The faint cries immediately cut off, followed by a rapid shuffling on the other side of the door. Kurogane waited, hands in his pockets.

He heard the boy turn the lock, but the door didn't open. After over a minute, Kurogane turned the knob and went inside.

Syaoran's bedroom was as dark as a cellar. Cold air swept in through the dark curtains. A sliver of light escaped the drapes as they fluttered, falling across the tower of books in the corner, but apart from that, the only light came from the doorway where Kurogane stood. "Why are you sitting in the dark?" Kurogane demanded, stalking over to the lamp on the desk. It took barely three strides to get there, but when he did, he realized that, not only was the light off, the lamp was unplugged.

"It's easier," Syaoran said quietly. Kurogane turned, power cord in hand.

"What?"

"The darkness . . . It feels right. I remember, when I shut out everything my clone saw and really _looked_ at where I was, everything was dark. Outside the capsule, there was an empty room, like an unused storage closet, but bigger. There were never any lights there."

Kurogane looked at the kid for a long moment, trying to control the swell of pity building in his chest. The boy was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down, bed sheets wrapped tightly around his thin frame. _He's so small, _the ninja thought, breath catching in his throat. The boy must've heard the sound, because his dark eyes slid over to his face, darting away when their gazes met.

Kurogane plugged in the lamp. Light flooded the room, so bright it was almost a physical force. On the bed, Syaoran flinched.

"You shouldn't sit in the dark." He brought his hands to the window and slid it shut. "And you shouldn't let the cold in like this."

"I'm sorry."

Kurogane sat down on the edge of the bed, beside the kid. Several minutes passed in silence. The ninja waited, knowing it was only a matter of time before the kid spoke.

"You're warm."

Kurogane's eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"I've never . . . No. I _have _met people as warm as you, but not for a long time. Sometimes, I forget what it's like." He sighed, pulling the sheets tighter around his body. "It's like I'm cold inside, like I'll never be warm."

Kurogane repressed the urge to snap at him. It was such a ridiculous notion, that a person could be cold inside. Kurogane knew from experience that some people were empty inside, capable of great cruelty without regret, and that others wore their hearts outside, so their confidence and kindness hung around them like a cloud, but he'd never heard of anyone feeling cold inside.

"I'm sorry," Syaoran whispered. "I'm sorry . . ."

"I don't want you to be sorry." _This conversation is starting to feel awfully familiar, _he thought.

Syaoran's breath caught. Evidently, he remembered that conversation as well, because he quoted it. "If you don't want me to be sorry, what do you want?"

Kurogane thought about that for several minutes. He'd never been exceptionally good with words. Tomoyo had often teased him for his bluntness, especially compared to the subtle way of speaking some of the nobles had employed. Yet she'd also said his bluntness could be refreshing. He supposed it had to work now. "I want to start over with you. No expectations, no judgments, no assumptions."

Syaoran's breath caught. "Why?"

_Because, clearly, things are fucked up beyond all reason, and having unrealistic expectations will only make it worse. _He settled for a simpler answer, one he wouldn't have to explain. "Because you deserve the chance to start over and do this right. Because the mage and the princess need you—and not some broken shell of a person trying to atone for something that wasn't even your fault."

"But it _was _my fault. If I had gotten to Tokyo five minutes sooner, you all could've been—"

"You didn't, and there's nothing you can do that will change that."

"It's still my fault."

"Don't be stupid!"

Syaoran flinched. _Damn_. He'd wanted to talk to the kid, not make him feel worse. "I don't believe what happened at Tokyo was your fault," Kurogane said quietly. "If there's something you're _really _at fault for, then spit it out or get over it."

"It's my fault your family died."

Kurogane doubled over as if he'd been punched in the gut. Before he could think about what he was doing, he was on his feet, fingers wrapped around the boy's arm. "_What?_"

A pained sound escaped the kid's throat. "I said—"

"I know what you _said_, but what the hell does it _mean_?"

"I did something bad." The words came out fast, in a whisper, as if the boy was simultaneously too afraid to say them and trying to get the explanation over with. "Before Fei Wong Reed sealed me away, I made a wish. I was trying to undo something that I'd thought was inevitable, something that happened because I was too slow. I made a wish . . . I turned back time. I managed to fix what had gone wrong, but in the process, I furthered Reed's plan, enabled him to act, and . . ." He took a deep breath, and the part of Kurogane's mind that was still focused on the kid's mental state calculated the probability of the boy breaking down into sobs right there.

But he didn't. Syaoran pressed on, trembling as if every word carved scars into his flesh. "Reed was trying to get to you, back in your world. I think . . . I think it had something to do with Sakura's feathers, or the journey itself, I don't know . . . I think Reed needed people to watch over her as she went around gathering her memories. He was . . . I'm almost positive he was trying to bring you to his side, manipulate you into serving him somehow. Princess Tomoyo intervened before he could, and that's why you didn't know about him until Yuuko told you about him in Tokyo, but . . ."

"But _what_?" Kurogane demanded, fighting to control the bitter hatred twisting through his body. The destruction of Suwa, the demons attacking, the sword sliding through his mother's heart . . . He'd thought he'd buried those memories deep enough that he wouldn't have to think about them. He'd thought those wounds had closed years ago. It rankled to realize the mere mention of that day still hurt him.

Syaoran went on. "By the time I realized what I'd done, my clone had already set out on this journey. But it was _my _fault that it happened. I realized that in Recourt, when the Other looked into the memory book and saw what had happened to you. If Tomoyo hadn't gotten there before Reed . . . If you had been left to fall apart until he came to offer you a chance to change things back . . ." Syaoran trailed off, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm selfish, and I should've never made that wish, no matter how much it would've hurt me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—" A sob cut through his apologies.

Kurogane saw the boy falter, watched his knees buckle as he collapsed onto the floor, heard the strangled sob that came out of the kid's throat . . . And did nothing.

"Please," Syaoran begged, on his hands and knees. "Please, I didn't mean to . . . I didn't know that would happen. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ."

Kurogane listened until the boy's apologies dissolved into senseless sobs. When there was nothing left of the boy but a broken lump on the floor, Kurogane turned and walked out.


	23. Sharp Memories

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kurogane left the boy, walked into the room he shared with the mage, and closed the door.

_Don't think about it, _he told himself, shoving away the memories clawing their way to the surface. He sat down on the edge of his bed, fingers tangling in his hair, and rested his elbows on his knees. _It doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past. Don't think about it. _

But he did think about it. Thought about his father's arm, still gripping Ginryuu even though the rest of him had been devoured by demons. Thought about the bat-shaped sigil on the sword that had pierced his mother's heart. Thought about how the fire had spread all across Suwa as he slaughtered monsters, and how the smoke had smelled as it rose in plumes over his head. It was as if the reminder had propelled him back into those first days in Shirasagi Castle, when his wounds had been raw, overwhelming. Over a decade later, he could visualize all of it in sickening detail.

He'd thought he'd left those memories behind, pushed them far enough away that they would never interfere with his decision making abilities. To realize that they still had the power to hurt him rankled almost as badly as the memories themselves did.

He exhaled, expelling the anger from his system the only way he could at the moment. Because, though he'd vowed to kill the bastard responsible for that night, doing so _now_, under these circumstances, would jeopardize one of the people he'd been trying to protect.

Protect those who needed protection. Destroy those who threatened them. That was what he'd always done, and there had never been a time when he'd regretted killing someone. The only time he'd regretted killing was when Tomoyo had laid her curse on him, and he'd only regretted it then because there had been consequences attached.

There would be consequences if he hurt the boy. Bad ones. And not just because the others would be distraught, though they feigned indifference now, but because it would ruin him. _I'd never be able to live with it, _he thought, gritting his teeth to clamp down on his fury. _I promised to take care of him. _

Even if the boy hadn't freed him from his obligations, Kurogane liked to think he had enough honor to keep that promise. At the very least, he could give himself time to think before he acted, time to consider how much of what had happened was _actually _the kid's fault, and how much was exaggeration brought on by the boy's guilt complex.

The rest of the apartment was silent. The kid was usually quiet during the day, either sleeping or reading. The exception was when he came out for meals and tried to make conversation.

Kurogane doubted the kid would be coming out of his room again tonight. He doubted the kid would show up for meals for a few days. _I shouldn't have left him alone, _he thought, calming a little. At least focusing on this problem meant he didn't have to think about the night Suwa burned. _I should've stayed._

As soon as he thought it, he realized that would've been a mistake. If he'd stayed, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from hurting the kid. It was better to leave, better to ignore him completely, than risk strangling him.

Better to let the kid sort things out on his own.

* * *

Syaoran didn't leave his room again until everyone had fallen asleep.

He'd heard the shuffling of feet, the low murmurs as Fai and Sakura cooperated to create dinner for the night. The scents emanating from beyond his door was that of baking bread, but Syaoran never left his room to check.

Kurogane never came and got him either.

Syaoran hadn't expected him to, after what he'd revealed. The fact that he was still alive either meant the ninja was much more forgiving than he'd realized, or his confessions had shocked the red-eyed man so much, he'd been unable to act.

Shocked. Angry. Hurt. He'd predicted those reactions. He'd expected some sort of punishment to follow his confession, something that would finally snap that lingering thread of trust between them. A part of him had hoped for it. _I had no right, _he thought. _I had no right to ask for his affection. It's better if he hates me. At least then, I won't have the opportunity to be so selfish. _

He thought of his Sakura, and how he'd reached for her hand that day in Clow. He'd hesitated, just for a moment, because there would've been consequences, and his hesitation had cost Sakura dearly. When her curse had taken effect years later, he'd made a wish to turn things back, make things right.

If he'd known how much it would hurt the people he'd one day consider allies, would he have done it?

He didn't know. He didn't know, and that scared him.

The latter half of the day had passed uneventfully. Syaoran had stayed in his room, ignoring the demands of his body for hours, until everyone went to sleep. Then, like a ghost, he'd slipped out of his bedroom and gone to the kitchen.

The refrigerator was full, thanks to the grocery run Fai and Sakura had made earlier in the day. Briefly, Syaoran wondered if things would've been different if they hadn't gone out. Would he have kept hoping for Kurogane's affection? Would he have let himself live the lie another day by pretending he'd had no role in the disaster in Suwa?

Would Kurogane have still cared about him?

He shook off the thoughts, finding the leftovers from this evening's meal. It had been bread, as he'd guessed, filled with various nuts and berries to add flavor. It seemed like an odd choice for a meal, and he wondered if Fai had served anything else with it.

Syaoran found himself slipping into his old habits, hoarding food that would keep for most of the next day, then grabbing what he could eat fresh right now. He was about to return to his room with his spoils when something caught his eye.

It was a green bottle, still corked and filled with alcohol. Elegant script marked the label, but though the letters were familiar, he couldn't decipher the words. There was a bright blue sticker indicating the price on the neck of the bottle. The liquor had been cheap, as was most of what they purchased in this world, but Syaoran was willing to bet it was strong, if Fai had bought it.

Minutes passed as he considered his options. Then, he reached out and plucked the bottle from the shelf, adding it to his supply. _They won't even notice, _he told himself as he trudged to his room again. There, he unwrapped everything he'd taken and surveyed it, calculating how long each item would last. He ate the perishables first, to fill the void in his stomach.

The liquor bottle taunted him from the edge of the pile.

_Not yet. Not until things get really bad. _

Despite his internal oath, he found his gaze repeatedly drawn to the bottle. It would only take a few gulps to ease the shame of what had happened today. Surely, no one would begrudge him that. Begrudge him for everything else, certainly, but not for that.

_You leave a trail of suffering in your wake, _whispered a small, insidious voice in the back of his mind. _Every mistake you try to right twists around and hurts everybody else. You're a disaster waiting to happen._

"Shut up," he whispered, curling up on the edge of his bed and pressing his hands to his ears as if that would stop the flood of guilt. As if he even deserved to have it stopped.

_Even your clone couldn't escape that. Everything he did was futile, just like everything you do will hurt others. So why bother? It would be better if you just disappeared._

But he couldn't disappear. He had a responsibility. He owed the others an attempt to make things right, even if it rebounded back on him in the worst way possible. He couldn't just walk away.

_Can't walk away. But you can forget. _

Syaoran looked again to the liquor bottle. Then, hating himself for his weakness, he popped the cork.


	24. Bad Habits

Chapter Twenty-Four

Time passed, and Syaoran fell deeper into bad habits.

Some of his habits were familiar—isolating himself in his room, hoarding food at night so he could avoid the others as much as possible. Others were new. He'd downed half the bottle of liquor that first night, the rest the next day. He'd taken two more from the shelf on the second night, berating himself for his weakness but unable to pass up the opportunity to numb his emotions. If he was lucky, his body would be just as numb whenever Kurogane decided to punish him.

Because of course he would. Syaoran knew he deserved at least a beating. And though he was terrified of getting it, at least once he did, it would be _over,_ and he wouldn't have to sit in his room wondering what form his punishment would take.

He didn't tell anyone about his alcohol abuse. After the first week, he no longer _wanted _to tell anyone. If anyone noticed how quickly the liquor stock was being depleted, they either didn't care or they'd attributed it to one of the others.

Syaoran didn't know, and by the time the supply ran out, he didn't care.

The morning after he'd finished the last bottle, he heard Fai talking about it in the kitchen.

"Someone will have to go into town and pick up something to drink."

Syaoran recognized Kurogane's disgruntled groan. "Fine. I want to get out of here anyway."

_Away from me, _Syaoran thought, pressing an ear to the wall. Kurogane seldom left the apartment except to take part in the chess matches Sakura insisted on attending. The general consensus seemed to be that, while there was a feather in this world, it was too far for Mokona to track, and it was better to bide their time here while saving tournament winnings to trade for the restoration of the Other's soul.

It was better to linger in this world where the danger was low than continue to places potentially more dangerous. Inaction left him listless, bored. Minutes passed sluggishly, turning into hours that seemed to linger for months, which turned into days that left him bleeding inside.

_Infinity, _he thought. _Where every second stretches on for an eternity. _

He heard Kurogane putting on his coat and shoes and opening the front door. The apartment suddenly felt empty. Kurogane was, if nothing else, full of vitality.

Less than a minute later, there was a knock on his door. Syaoran hid the empty bottle under his bed, planning to dispose of it tonight when he made his nightly food run, and opened the door. Fai stood on the other side, his expression unreadable. Syaoran's heart jumped. Fai never visited his room. Doing so now must've meant he was in some sort of trouble.

_He knows, _Syaoran thought. "Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

_No. _"Of course." He opened the door wider and stepped aside, never meeting the magician's eyes.

"_Hyuu_. It's dark in here."

Syaoran winced. Fai's fake whistle, so rare these days, served only as a reminder that whatever horrible thing had happened in Fai's past was likely his fault as well. Because of course something bad had happened to Fai. Except for Sakura, they all had horrible, traumatic backgrounds, so logically, it followed that something bad had happened to Fai that had set him on this path to join the group. He'd outright said he'd been running away from his home world, though he'd never given a reason for his flight.

"Is something wrong, Fai-san?"

The magician smiled, his single eye closing for a moment. His transparent attempt at cheerfulness put a lump in Syaoran's throat. "No, nothing's wrong. I just thought we should have a little chat. Sit down for a minute."

Well, _that _sounded ominous. Syaoran took a seat on the edge of the bed, waiting. If it had been Kurogane trying to talk to him, he would've had some idea what to expect. The ninja was blunt and straightforward, so much so that his words often bordered on cruel. Fai would be subtler. It would be harder to put up a wall between them.

Fai sat beside him. Syaoran fidgeted at their proximity. "So," Fai said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment before going on. "I haven't seen you at the dinner table in a while." Fai waited for a response. Syaoran stayed silent. "Are you all right? I know things have been rough lately."

"I'm fine," he lied.

A frown rippled across the vampire's face. It was quiet for a bit, but unlike the once-companionable silences he'd shared with Kurogane, all Syaoran felt was tension. Even when he'd been attending meals, he and Fai had seldom interacted. Hearing the edge of concern in the magician's voice set him on edge. They were starting to notice his antisocial tendencies. How long would it be until they began to hate him again?

Finally, Fai spoke again, weighing every word. "When bad things happen, it can be easy to run away from them instead of facing them. Losing oneself in less painful pursuits can certainly be . . . easier. But not always better."

Panic sunk its claws into his heart, shredding it apart. _What if he's not talking about drinking? What if he knows about the kiss? What if he knows? _His fear deepened. _I'd never be able to face either of them ever again. I'd rather die. _"I . . . What exactly are you referring to?" he asked.

A shadow fell over Fai's face. "I know about the alcohol."

Syaoran kept still, not letting his relief show. "I see."

Fai made a dismissive gesture. "It's not a big deal. We don't mind if you have a drink once in a while. But if there's something that's troubling you . . . I know this isn't an ideal arrangement—"

Syaoran winced at the word.

"—but you can still talk to us. Either of us."

_And who is "us?" _Syaoran wondered. But he nodded. "I understand."

Fai smiled, and this time, it looked genuine. He rested a delicate hand on Syaoran's shoulder and stood up. "All right. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

"Sure."

Fai was almost out the door when he paused. Syaoran looked up, curious. The vampire looked uncomfortable. "You can talk to Sakura-chan, too. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

He bit his lip until it bled. "Right."

Fai left him alone.

* * *

Mealtimes had gone stale over the past week.

The food was fine. The mage had gotten cooking down to a science, and the princess was learning pretty fast herself. The conversations at the dinner table were much the same as they had been, revolving around chess matches and chores and, occasionally, tidbits about the day. To an outsider, it looked like a cordial family dinner with ample sustenance.

To Kurogane, it looked empty, lifeless. And that bothered him, because even though part of him resented the boy for the consequences of whatever wish he'd made, the other part fretted over his absence. It had been over a week since the kid had crumpled to the floor, apologizing. Since then, he'd barely seen the kid, and never for longer than the three seconds it took for the boy to travel from his bedroom to the bathroom.

At first, Kurogane had been relieved. His temper had always been volatile, and the knowledge that the boy had, in some capacity, caused the tragedy that night in Suwa had left Kurogane seething. So for those first few days, he'd been glad the boy had stayed out of his way. His absence had allowed Kurogane to calm down.

As his fury ebbed, the seeds of worry sprouted. He began to wonder how much he'd hurt the kid by walking away, and how much more damage he would've done if he'd stayed. After a week, he was forced to admit that it was time to talk to the kid, before his badly hidden alcohol problem developed into something worse.

When the mage and the princess went out for their evening walk that night, Kurogane knocked on Syaoran's door. "All right. I've had enough of this. Come on out."

The kid must've been awake, because the door opened before he was even finished. Syaoran stared emptily at his shirt, not meeting his eyes. If Kurogane hadn't known better, he'd have thought the kid was sleepwalking.

"We're going for a walk," he said, taking the kid by the wrist and dragging him out of the room. The boy gave no resistance, and when Kurogane ordered him to put his coat on, he obeyed without a word. _Why? _he wondered. _Is he afraid, or does he just want to get this over with? _"Follow me."

Kurogane led the boy up the stairs, to the lobby, and, after a moment's consideration, into the elevator. The only sound as they ascended was that of the metal cables groaning outside the box.

The boy never looked at him.

"No one will be able to hear us up here," Kurogane said when they'd reached the roof, hoping the assurance would make it easier for the boy to speak openly. For the first time, Syaoran's expression shifted. Fear replaced the blankness in his eyes as he drew back. Kurogane caught his arm. The kid's body jerked once, then went still. Kurogane could hear him breathing from over the wind, and the sound of it was like a beaten child trying not to whimper.

He waited. Finally, the kid met his eyes. His pupils were dilated, his face pale. His lips moved, but the wind obscured the words.

"Talk louder. I can't hear you over this wind."

The kid took a shaky breath and looked at him with haunted eyes. "Are you going to hurt me?"


	25. Fear of Rejection

Chapter Twenty-Five

"_What_?"

Syaoran flinched. "I . . . everything that's happened is my fault, so if you want to hurt me, just get it over with. The longer I think about it, the worse it gets."

Realization hit hard. _He thinks I want revenge for Suwa. _The thought teased the edges of his anger so it flared up again. _How could he think that? Am I that much of a monster to him? _He thought about how Tomoyo had sent him away. _Was I a monster to her, too? Did she send me away because she thought I was a danger to her people? _

That rankled even worse than the boy's quiet query had. Frustrated, he took the kid by the shoulders and knelt so they were eye-level. "I don't _want _to hurt you. Even if I did, there would be no point, so calm down."

The tension in the boy's shoulders relaxed, but his face remained pale, pupils dilated. "I'm sorry."

Kurogane sighed. "Why did you follow me up here if you thought I was going to hurt you?"

"Because I deserve it. And you deserve retribution."

"What the hell makes you think I would take revenge on a kid half my size?"

Syaoran hesitated.

Annoyance sharpened his words, made them harsh. "Am I that much of a monster to you?"

"No. I . . ." He bowed his head. "I respect you. That's why I followed you here. I'd follow you anywhere."

The words sent a strange pang of relief through him. His hands slid down the kid's sleeves, fingers trailing first over the fabric, then over the clammy flesh of Syaoran's hands. "What if I didn't want that? What then?"

Syaoran met his gaze. "You're . . . kind. It would take a lot to make me run away from you." His cheeks reddened. "Even if you'd be better off without me."

"Kind," he repeated. _No. I could never be kind. _He sighed, sitting down on the rooftop and glaring at the night sky. Syaoran hovered over him for a moment before sitting down beside him.

"You are kind," the boy said. "I mean that."

"If you're looking to me for comfort, you must be desperate."

The kid flinched; Kurogane realized he'd hit the mark. _That's it. He's desperate for human contact, and you were the only one who offered it. Of course he'd interpret that as kindness. _The notion threw him for a moment; that first real kiss had always felt like a breach of self-control for him. He'd thought he'd been taking advantage of a kid who didn't know what he was asking for.

But he'd been wrong. Syaoran had known _exactly _what he'd been asking for. He'd been the one who'd misinterpreted.

"Why look to me for comfort?" he demanded. "Why not the princess? Why not the mage?"

"Fai-san was hurt the worst in Tokyo. And to ask that of Sakura . . ." Syaoran faltered. "I couldn't. It wouldn't be right."

"So you came to me."

"Yes."

"After I threw you into a wall the first time you tried to kiss me."

Syaoran looked away. "You never would've kissed me of your own free will. I was selfish. I manipulated you into it, knowing you'd be compelled to keep your word. I'm sorry." His shoulders curled inward. "I'm sorry . . ."

Kurogane leaned back. Specks of snow stabbed at his cheek, numbing it. It took him a long time to speak, but when he did, it was the truth. "I didn't hate it."

The boy looked up sharply. "You—"

"I didn't hate it," he repeated. "You surprised me. I thought I was taking advantage of you. I thought it was wrong to go on like that. But I didn't hate kissing you."

Syaoran's breath caught.

Kurogane went on. Every word tasted like vinegar on his tongue. "I made a mistake when I defined it as a deal. There shouldn't be obligations when it comes to this, so I'll just ask: do you want things to be that way between us?"

Hope rushed into Syaoran's eyes, banishing the uncertainty. "Yes."

"Okay." Kurogane half-turned, still sitting down, and ran his fingertips across the kid's cheek. "Then we'll do this the right way."

Syaoran leaned into the touch, closing his eyes in surrender. "That feels good," he murmured. Kurogane nodded; he wanted this to feel good. The kid needed the affection, needed a chance to receive it without reservation or judgment. What startled Kurogane was how much he _wanted _the boy to need him.

He pivoted on his knee so both hands could trace the boy's skin. This was different from any relationship he'd ever cultivated, but he'd been with plenty of women in his life. This couldn't be that different. He moved one hand to Syaoran's back, tracing his spine and moving past the collar of his jacket. Uncertainly, the boy shrugged off his coat. With one hand, Kurogane freed the boy's arms and pushed the jacket aside.

Syaoran leaned forward, tilting his head back in a way Kurogane had come to recognize. The ninja pushed gently on Syaoran's collarbone, holding him back. "Listen," he said firmly. "Nothing about this is straightforward. Nothing about this is easy. I need you to think, and I need you to do it with a clear head."

Syaoran drew back, disappointment flashing through his eyes. "Okay."

Kurogane rested a hand on each shoulder, looking straight into the boy's eyes. "I need to know how far you want to take this, and how fast."

Syaoran nodded, considering that. It took him a few moments to gather a reply. His cheeks were red, but whether from the cold or from embarrassment, Kurogane couldn't say. "I want to go as far as you're willing. I . . ." His blush deepened, so perhaps it was from embarrassment after all. "I don't have much experience, but . . . I want to learn."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "So if I told you we were going to go back to the apartment, to your room—"

"Yes." A pair of dark brown eyes met his gaze, radiating intensity, desire. "Please. I want this. I need it."

Kurogane hesitated, but only for a moment. Then he stood. "Put your coat back on."

Like before, the boy obeyed without hesitation. The difference now was the urgency in his response. He jammed his arms through the padded sleeves and, rather than zipping up, folded the front flaps of his coat over each other to stave off the bitter wind. Kurogane waited, heart hammering against his ribs.

Some part of him knew that there would be no going back after this. Kisses could be ignored, and affections left to wither, but there was no way to push aside what they were about to do.

"Is it . . . going to hurt?" Syaoran asked as they stepped inside the elevator.

Kurogane deliberated for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Not what we're doing tonight." There wasn't enough time to explore all the possibilities. The mage and the princess walked a little over an hour each day, trying to build strength in the girl's crippled leg. Kurogane doubted like hell that the kid would have the stamina to last five minutes, let alone a whole hour. Still, with the time they'd already used up plus the time it would take to clean up afterward, there wasn't much room to mess around. It would have to be simple, quick.

Briefly, Kurogane wondered if this was a mistake. There would be no living this down if the others came back and saw them in a . . . compromising position. Yet he could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. The thought that they might be caught added a certain degree of excitement to the whole prospect. The risk was thrilling, like the risk of going into battle.

The elevator doors opened. Kurogane shoved the thoughts away, praying they didn't show on his face. He set the pace as they walked through the lobby, forcing himself to move slower than usual, to act like they weren't in a rush. The boy followed close behind him, saying nothing. As soon as their apartment door closed behind them, Kurogane turned. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, holding the boy's face between his hands.

Syaoran nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay." Kurogane leaned forward, so his tongue danced over the boy's lower lip, teasing. It was more invasive than their previous kisses, but what did it matter anymore?

A soft groan of pleasure sounded in his ears. The boy opened his mouth just wide enough for the ninja's tongue to slide past his lips. Syaoran made a surprised sound at the back of his throat as Kurogane nipped at his lower lip.

"Bed," Kurogane whispered, releasing the boy. "Now."

Syaoran said nothing, merely kicking his shoes into a corner and stripping off his coat. He threw it over the coat rack on his way to the bedroom. Kurogane followed, closing the kid's door behind him. _This is it, _he thought. _No going back._

The boy perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as if searching for approval. Kurogane paused. Fear sparked in those eyes, the fear of rejection.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you." _Ever. _

The kid swallowed thickly, then nodded, some of the fear fading from his face. "Okay."


	26. In the Dark

_Author's Notes:_

_Well, this is the beginning of two consecutive chapters of smut. I've found that writing sex scenes is actually quite similar to writing fight scenes, in that they both require careful detail and a lot of effort to do well. Anyway, I don't write this stuff often, so any feedback you can give me is much appreciated, and I will take it into account next time a scene like this comes up. Also, if you're reading this fic because you like me as an author and not because you're interested in this pairing, you have my permission to skip the next two chapters. I won't be mad. _

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

The first thing Kurogane did was close the curtains.

From his perch at the edge of the bed, Syaoran watched him, absorbing every detail. The ninja's stride was longer than most, able to cross the room in three paces where it would've taken Syaoran five. The curtains rustled as they closed.

Kurogane strode back to the door, shut it, and turned the lock. The sound of the gears sliding together was strangely . . . ominous. They were finally alone together, sealed off from the rest of the world. Syaoran fidgeted. "Should I . . ." He trailed off, fingers brushing over the zipper on his vest. Infinity had a strange sense of fashion, with clothes that included unnecessary zippers and multiple layers that served only as decoration. At the moment, he was wearing a white shirt with artfully tattered sleeves, covered by a simple black vest with a zipper on the front.

"No," Kurogane said, not looking at him. "I'll take care of it."

Syaoran looked at his feet, breathing slowly, trying to control himself. This was the first time he'd ever been intimate with _anyone_, and while he had no experience, he didn't want to embarrass himself before it even started.

Kurogane stared at the desk for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. When he walked over to the desk and knelt to unplug the lamp, Syaoran tensed. "How are we going to—"

"I don't want you thinking about how much you hate this place. I want you to focus."

_Only you would approach this like a training session, _Syaoran thought as Kurogane pulled the plug. The tiny room was suddenly shrouded in darkness.

His heart started racing. Instinct commanded him to flee from the darkness, but logic pinned him where he sat, even as he heard the distinct sound of clothes hitting the floor.

_He promised, _Syaoran thought, on the edge of panic. _He promised it wouldn't hurt._

One breath, then another, each shakier than the last. When Kurogane's fingertips traced his cheek, he jumped. "Easy," the ninja warned, sliding his hand down Syaoran's neck. "It's not like I'm going to bite you."

_If only that was the worst of my worries, _Syaoran thought, closing his eyes. There was no change in brightness, but he could sense the things around him better when he closed his eyes, just as Kurogane had taught the Other in Outo.

"Lean back," Kurogane said. Despite the commanding edge to his words, his voice was barely a murmur. The ninja pressed gently on his shoulder, easing him back until he lay sideways across the bed. His hair brushed the sheetrock. Kurogane guided him away from the wall so he was lying face-up along the length of the bed. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." His voice was hoarse.

Kurogane touched his cheek, finding it easily in the darkness. Syaoran shivered as the bed took the ninja's weight. The creak of springs brought Syaoran back to where they were, what they were doing. He gasped, fingers curling around the sheets, but he managed to avoid whimpering as Kurogane pressed his lips to the base of his throat.

"Syaoran."

His body went rigid. He'd never heard Kurogane say his name aloud, but even in his dreams, he would've never imagined the tenderness there. It sounded almost hesitant, like the way one might pronounce a foreign word without any knowledge of that language. But this wasn't a clumsy attempt at learning a language, this was a name the ninja knew well.

And he said it as if every syllable was a treasure.

Syaoran lifted his arms and wrapped them around the ninja's torso. "Yes?"

"If you want me to stop, you have to tell me, all right?"

Syaoran nodded. "I understand."

"Okay." Kurogane kissed his collarbone, his hands moving to the zipper on Syaoran's vest. He unzipped it slowly, so it was the only sound in the darkness. Syaoran's body went rigid—there were only so many things that sound could mean. Right now, it was a prelude of what was to come. He let out a shaky breath, but it wasn't until Kurogane pressed a hand to his sternum and pushed him into the mattress that Syaoran realized he was trembling. "It'll be better if you relax."

"I—" He bit back the apology, knowing it wasn't what the ninja wanted to hear right now. Instead, he said, "Okay."

With deft hands, Kurogane maneuvered Syaoran's arms out of the vest and bundled up the garment. It fluttered in the air when he tossed it aside, part of the zipper gliding over the cement.

Next was his undershirt. Kurogane had removed his own right after he'd turned the lights out, but Syaoran still wore enough clothes that, if anyone actually saw their compromising position, he'd have a decent shot at convincing them that it wasn't what it looked like.

But this time, it was exactly what it looked like. Kurogane manipulated his shirt, tugging it out of the way. Syaoran lifted his arms, letting the cotton slide over his body and onto the floor. He felt one of the ninja's fingertips trace the contours of his chest until it found the darker brown stub of his nipple. Somehow, the soft touch seemed more intimate than anything Syaoran had imagined for the end of this . . . experience.

Kurogane's thumb moved back and forth over the sensitive bump, raising hairs on his whole body. When the ninja moved his lips over that spot, Syaoran yelped in surprise. Instantly, Kurogane drew back. "Ki—Syaoran? Do you want me to stop?"

"No," he whispered, awed again by the sound of his name being spoken by that voice. "You startled me. Keep going." _Please. _

The ninja lowered his head again, teeth grazing the sensitive stub while his hand moved over to the other nipple. Syaoran tilted his head back, opening his eyes as if to look at the ceiling.

Kurogane's hands moved down his torso, over his stomach, and finally to his waist. One hand moved to Syaoran's zipper, and the sudden warmth stirred something inside him. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to finish this now. Yet the ninja moved slowly, torturing him as the zipper parted under his hands.

Something happened then, so quickly Syaoran couldn't process it. In less than a second, his jeans were on the floor, his legs tingling from the friction. A moment later, he heard another zipper coming undone, much faster than his had.

Terror sunk its claws into Syaoran's stomach. He reached out, managing to catch one of the ninja's arms as he heard a second pair of jeans fall to the floor. "Please," he begged.

Kurogane moved so their bodies were facing each other, but not touching. "Yes?"

"Just . . . this is the first time I've ever . . ."

"I know." Kurogane kissed him on the lips.

"I don't know how to—"

"I know." Another kiss, this one at the hollow of his throat. Then another, on his chest, followed by one on his stomach. Just when he thought the ninja was merely going to torment him, Kurogane slid his underwear off his legs, leaving him completely naked.

Vulnerable.

"Ready?"

_No. _"Yes."

Kurogane lowered himself onto Syaoran's body. The sudden weight startled him, and he pressed his face into the ninja's bare shoulder to stifle his squeak of surprise. "Relax," Kurogane murmured, running his fingertips down Syaoran's ribcage. He shivered, forcing his body to go limp. Kurogane's hand moved lower, tracing the contours of his hips. When the ninja's fingers closed around him, his body went rigid again.

Kurogane planted a kiss on the edge of his jaw, tugging gently on the organ between his legs. Syaoran's fingernails bit into the ninja's shoulders as he struggled to stay in control of his own body. Another tug, rougher than the first, brought him close to the edge. _I can't lose myself this soon, _he thought. He'd read enough books to know that stamina was considered an important part of sex, particularly for men. Of course, most of the novels he'd read had involved heterosexual couples, but still.

Kurogane ran his thumb down the base of his shaft. Black dots danced in Syaoran's vision. Without a conscious command, his hips thrust upward, skin sliding against skin with a heady, bone-shaking friction.

Something shifted in one of their positions and pushed Syaoran over the edge. A cry tore from his throat, unrestrained, as pleasure surged through his body. A hand gripped his shoulder and shoved him down onto the mattress as he gasped.

Several seconds passed before he was able to think again. When he came out of his stupor, his whole body was trembling, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he could feel something sticky between his thighs.

Kurogane chuckled softly. Syaoran's eyes flashed open, and he was shocked to see the other man actually _grinning _at him. Heat rushed to his cheeks. Before he could apologize, the ninja's lips collided with his, warm and soft.

"That was quick."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"No."

"Huh?"

"Don't apologize for _that_." Kurogane rolled over so Syaoran was lying on top of him. Any control he'd had over his body vanished as his limbs went as limp as overcooked noodles. His cheek was resting on Kurogane's chest, close enough to hear his heartbeat, his breathing. The red-eyed man wrapped his arms around Syaoran's torso, holding him there. "We still have time."

Syaoran gulped, still trembling from the onslaught of pleasure. He was sticky and sweaty and exposed, but he also felt _good_. As if he'd been chained down for months and finally been freed. He couldn't remember ever feeling this good, despite the ominous assurance that they had time.

_Time for what? _he wondered, moving his fingertips over Kurogane's ribs the same way the ninja had for him a moment ago. He lifted his head, meeting the ninja's gaze. "What now?"

Kurogane pulled his body forward so they were face to face. Their lips brushed together. "Now?" the ninja echoed, mischief in his eyes. "Now, it's my turn."


	27. Nice to be Wanted

_Author's Notes:_

_The smut continues through most of this chapter, so again, if you're just reading because you like me as an author, feel free to skip this chapter. It'll be the last chapter of smut for a while, so rest easy. For those of you who _do_ read KuroSyao, I'd be grateful for any tips or advice you've got when it comes to scenes like these. I'm still rather new to writing sex scenes, so any feedback is appreciated._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A jolt of fear shot through Syaoran's heart, but he said nothing, sitting up and staring at the ninja's chest. His voice was hoarse. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

The question seemed to surprise the ninja. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before he answered. "I don't know. This is the first time I've been with someone who's not a woman."

"Oh. Right." _Well, at least that gives me a place to start, _Syaoran thought, doubtful. _Now, if only there was some sort of handbook for this sort of thing . . ._ Uncertainly, he moved his hand between their bodies, reaching past the man's abdomen until he felt the curve of his hips. He wanted to look at Kurogane's face, to check if he was doing this right or if this was just hopelessly awkward, but he couldn't make himself look up. He tried to mimic the motions that had driven him to the brink of pleasure a moment ago and felt the other man harden in response.

"Syaoran."

The sound of his name jerked him out of his anxious ministrations. The full force of the awkwardness hit him like a collapsing building, and his fingers unfurled. He bowed his head.

Kurogane's voice was soft, in response to his unspoken apology. "Don't think so hard. You don't have to do what I did, just do what comes naturally."

Syaoran thought about that for a long moment. He'd never wanted to please anyone this much, and certainly not in this way. It was so different from searching for approval from a teacher or father figure. He didn't know how to take control, how to initiate this part of the exchange. He'd barely considered what it would be like for _himself_, here, in this bed. It felt like taking a test after being absent for a week.

He'd read plenty of books in his lifetime, some more graphic than others, but the mere thought of trying to mimic those circumstances drove spires of fear into his stomach. He settled for something vaguely arousing that would buy him time to get used to the idea of something . . . more. "Sit up," he said, voice quavering. Surprise flitted across Kurogane's face, but he obeyed without question. Syaoran repositioned himself so he was kneeling just behind the ninja. He wiped the sweat from his hands with the sheets, then lifted them to the juncture between the ninja's neck and his shoulder.

He began massaging Kurogane's shoulders, thumbs moving in slow circles over the tense muscles. His tanned skin was smooth, almost unusually so. After a while, when those muscles began to relax, he moved down the ninja's back, digging his fingers into the rigid lines there until his hands started cramping. Once, as he kneaded the man's lower back, he heard Kurogane sigh. It was a contented sound, like the yawn of a pet dog as it curled up at the foot of the bed.

Stalling, Syaoran moved his hands back up to the man's neck and worked on the knots there. After several minutes, he found a rhythm, moving up and down the ninja's back in an effort to tease out weeks of stress.

Eventually, though, Syaoran had to admit there were no more knots to iron out, no more ways to stall. He pressed his cheek against the ninja's shoulder, encircling him with his arms and running his fingertips over the man's stomach. It didn't surprise him one bit to feel the sculpted plates of Kurogane's abdomen under his fingers. A life devoted to fighting had made the ninja trim but muscular.

_Much better shape than I'm in, _Syaoran thought wistfully, moving his hand lower. This time, he didn't shy away when he felt the hard lump under his hand. He gave an experimental squeeze. With one ear pressed against Kurogane's back, he was able to hear the sharp intake of breath, feel the brief shudder that ran down the man's spine. The reaction made him realize this was almost as new to Kurogane as it was to him.

Had it been confidence that had allowed Kurogane to make it look so easy, or had it been his own inexperience and the quick reaction to being touched that had made the ninja seem so much more advanced than he was?

The realization was enough to strip away the last of Syaoran's shyness. He curled his fingers around the red-eyed man's shaft and tugged, starting slow, then speeding up as he found a rhythm. All the while, he listened to the ninja's breathing, trying to determine what made him respond and what didn't. His free hand clawed at the ninja's chest, possessive in a way he'd never expected himself to be.

_Mine. He is mine. _

Kurogane shuddered against him, a strangled moan breaking through his control as a thick, sticky fluid flowed around Syaoran's fingers. Relief washed through him, almost as potent as the relief he'd felt when the same thing had happened to him. He waited a moment, leaning against the ninja's back as he listened to his heavy breathing.

"Was that . . . okay?" he asked timidly.

"Yes," Kurogane panted, tilting his head back. "Fuck, yes."

Syaoran leaned forward and pressed his lips to the base of the ninja's jaw, wiping his hands on the sheets. _I'll have to wash those before the others get back, _he thought distantly, heart fluttering like a butterfly's wings.

He slipped out of the way before Kurogane could collapse on top of him. Together, they laid down atop the messy sheets, each breathing hard. The ninja pulled him close, their bodies pressing against each other. Syaoran went limp in his arms, exhausted. For something that was supposed to feel good, there was an awful lot of stress that went into it. "That was . . . different . . . from what I thought it was going to be," he said, pressing his face into the ninja's shoulder. _A lot less painful than I'd imagined it._

Kurogane grunted in agreement, rolling onto his side so they could face each other. His wine-red eyes were tender, tranquil. "Not bad," he conceded.

Syaoran smiled. From Kurogane, even the barest hint of approval was worth several minutes of heartfelt praise from most people. It warmed him inside, and he snuggled closer to the ninja's chest, closing his eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," Kurogane said. "We've got to get cleaned up and dressed before the others get back."

"I know. I just wanted to lie here for a minute first. If that's okay." He looked up, pleading for approval.

A rare, genuine smile flitted across the other man's face. "Just a minute, then." His hand moved through Syaoran's hair, ruffling it so it stuck out in a disarray. Kurogane kissed him once, tenderly, as they lay there. The gesture seemed so strange to him. Kisses had always struck him as the kind of thing that led up to sex, not something that happened after. It seemed particularly strange coming from a man more given to subtler methods of affection.

After a couple minutes, Kurogane withdrew his arms and sat up. "We've got some cleanup to do. Might be awkward if anyone sees the sheets."

The mere thought of how he would explain _that _to the others had Syaoran on his feet in a second. Hastily, he searched for his discarded clothes, trying to put them back on in a logical manner even as his mind reeled.

"Take the bed sheets to the laundry room," Kurogane muttered. "It's been long enough since you washed them that it won't look suspicious, but we'll have to be more careful next time."

_Next time. _The words echoed in his mind, a symphony of possibilities, anxiety, hope, and desire. They were a promise that all was well, that their relationship hadn't shattered because they'd pushed it too fast. His heart fluttered again, the back of his neck warming.

As he gathered up the sheets, he watched Kurogane dress, transfixed. The ninja had always moved with a subtle grace, but it was even more pronounced without the cover of clothes. His muscles stretched and rippled, like those of a lion stretching on the plains, powerful even in relaxation.

_There'll be a next time, _Syaoran thought, tearing his eyes away from the red-eyed man. He wadded up the soiled sheets, folding them in on themselves so no evidence of their interlude would be visible to anyone. As he started for the door, he felt a light pressure between his shoulder blades; he looked back to see Kurogane standing behind him.

"I mean it." This close, it took only a murmur to be heard. "You did good."

Syaoran tilted his head back so he was touching the ninja's chest. "Thanks. You, too."

Kurogane snorted, stepping back. "Well, naturally."

He smiled. He'd never seen the ninja in such high spirits. It was nice to be the reason for that.

Nice to be wanted.

He dumped the sheets in a laundry basket, pausing just a moment in the bathroom to fix his hair so he wouldn't look like he'd just done what he'd done. He hurried to the building's laundry room, ready to spend the next few minutes getting rid of evidence.

After all, this was the sort of thing one kept . . . discreet.


	28. Chess Match

_Author's Notes:_

_Some fluff and romance in this chapter, but the explicit stuff is over for a bit. For those of you who read the last two chapters, you can skip the rest of this author's note. For those of you who haven't, here are the important plot-and-character-related bits: Kurogane and Syaoran slept together. They didn't get caught and they didn't go all the way. The experience was enjoyable for both of them, and Syaoran has come to the conclusion that their coupling was a good thing. Also, he's discovered that Kurogane is surprisingly gentle in some ways. Anyway, if you want more detail than that, you'll have to read the chapters._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Syaoran started keeping track of everyone's habits.

Fai and Sakura continued their evening walks, staying out a few minutes longer each day as Sakura regained her strength. Lately, their strolls had been right around the hour mark, and had continued growing longer. Most days, they left at six, but if they started later, they returned later. When there was a chess match, they either postponed their walk, or stayed out for a shorter period. Syaoran catalogued their habits, their absences, waiting for the moment when he could be alone with Kurogane without fear of getting caught.

Yet in the two weeks since Syaoran had started mapping out everyone's schedules, the ninja hadn't given any indication that he was interested in repeating their last encounter.

_Patience, _Syaoran reminded himself. _It's only an hour each day. He probably doesn't want to cut it too close._

Once a week, on an undetermined day, Fai and Sakura went out shopping. These excursions were longer, some lasting almost six hours, but never less than three. They brought Mokona with them so they could communicate with the shopkeepers, which occasionally left Syaoran unable to understand Kurogane's words.

That didn't stop him from reading the ninja's body language.

They were in the middle of a chess match—not in the arena, but on a chess board that Fai bought the previous week. The rules were somewhat complicated, but Syaoran remembered playing enough board games with Fujitaka(all his experience secondhand, filtered through his clone's eyes) to make sense of the game.

"Are you sure you haven't played this before?" Kurogane asked, eyebrows slanting down as he studied the chessboard. They were on their third game, and the ninja had yet to defeat him. It was a strange feeling.

"Nothing quite like this." Syaoran picked up one of his pawns and moved it forward one square. Kurogane picked up his rook, then set it back on the board before moving his knight instead. Syaoran slid his bishop into position and smiled when Kurogane scowled at the tiny wooden piece.

When the ninja said something incomprehensible, Syaoran glanced up. It took him a moment to realize that the others had strayed too far from their apartment, and that Mokona was no longer translating for them. "I guess Mokona's out of range," he said, figuring Kurogane would hear Mokona's name and get the gist of his comment.

The ninja glanced up, frowned, and muttered what Syaoran assumed to be a curse. He grumbled a few other words, each laced with annoyance. Syaoran listened to the music of the ninja's native language, noting the staccato bursts of sound, how the syllables all blended together despite their hard edges.

Knowing the ninja couldn't understand him, Syaoran said, "You have a wonderful voice."

Kurogane's expression changed, and Syaoran wondered if he'd been mistaken. It seemed _way _too convenient for Mokona to wander close to translate again the moment he said something embarrassing, but the possibility had him blushing. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't hear that."

Kurogane spoke, using the clipped syllables of his native language, and Syaoran was relieved to realize the man hadn't _really _understood his words. Even so, the man's shoulders were stiff with annoyance as they stared at each other.

"It seems like every time I open my mouth, I say something I shouldn't," Syaoran murmured. "But if I only talk when no one understands me, maybe things won't turn out so badly."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurogane's hand reaching toward him. Syaoran remained still, wishing he knew how to control the blush rising to his cheeks. The ninja's fingertips combed through his hair, moving lower to cup his cheek. Syaoran leaned into the warmth automatically, closing his eyes. _Yes, _he thought. _Finally._ Kurogane's thumb traced his lower lip.

Syaoran trembled.

Kurogane said something in his native language, and suddenly, Syaoran understood the resounding success of foreign movies. There was something indescribably alluring about listening to another language.

When he opened his eyes, every joint locked in place. Kurogane's face was mere inches from his, his red eyes critical. Then, as if testing him, the ninja leaned forward, their noses brushing against each other, breath mingling in the air between their mouths.

Yet their lips didn't touch. When Syaoran tried to lean forward, Kurogane's hand tightened around his hair and held him in place. He said something else, his voice sharp, like a command. The man's hands moved down until they found his shoulders. He applied pressure there for just a moment, then let go. Syaoran sat, allowing himself to revel in that touch, that silent affection he'd been yearning for over the past two weeks.

The ninja proceeded to press his lips to each of Syaoran's cheeks, then his forehead, then his neck, trailing down until he reached the collar of his shirt. Even forcing himself to remain still, Syaoran couldn't stop a shiver from running down his spine. "Please," he said, hoping the ninja would at least pick up on the desire, the _need_, in his voice.

Kurogane's lips twitched against his collarbone. The ninja kissed the edge of his jaw, then his ear. The faint pressure tickled, sending jolts of electricity down the rest of his body. The ninja whispered something into his ear, and Syaoran felt the back of his neck warm.

Abruptly, Kurogane sat back, studying the chess board between them as if nothing had changed. Syaoran struggled to remember his own strategy even as the electricity of the kisses continued to course through his body. He'd had a strategy. He knew he'd had one. But he couldn't call it back. It took him almost a minute to think of a move, and after he did, Kurogane captured his knight.

"You did that on purpose," Syaoran said.

The chess game went quickly after that. Strategy in shambles, Syaoran tried to salvage the game, but in the end, Kurogane defeated him.

Syaoran didn't understand what the ninja said after the game was over, but it sounded smug.

He sighed and started piling the game pieces into the pouches they'd come from. He put those back in the box, which he left on the coffee table for the others to play later. Fai had a talent for board games, and he remembered how Sakura had loved to play them, back in Clow. _Both Sakuras . . . _he thought.

Kurogane moved behind him as he set the box down. His clone had learned to perceive unseen threats in Outo, and that knowledge had carried over to this body, so in spite of the ninja's silent steps, he knew the man was standing behind him, slightly to the left. Syaoran remained still, facing the wall, as the ninja's hand came down on his shoulder.

"Sorry. That was unfair."

Syaoran turned. "I can understand you again. And yes, it was."

Kurogane released his shoulder and stepped back, his posture guarded. "The others are probably on their way back, then."

He glanced down. He yearned for the unreserved intimacy they'd shared before, but part of him was terrified to take that step too soon. Even after two weeks, he was still getting used to the idea that the two of them could be together in that way, without the world collapsing in on itself.

"We still have some time," Kurogane said, drawing in closer. Hope flared in Syaoran's chest as their lips met. That single touch released all the tension in his body. He reached forward, clinging to the man's arms so his legs wouldn't turn to overcooked noodles beneath him. As their lips separated, Syaoran leaned forward and pressed the side of his face against Kurogane's chest. A comforting hand moved through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"You have a beautiful language."

The ninja froze, then relaxed. "Yeah?"

Syaoran nodded. "I'm glad Mokona translates for us, otherwise we wouldn't be able to communicate at all, but I wouldn't mind just listening to you talk for a while."

Kurogane arched one eyebrow. "You're a strange kid."

"I know." There was a pause, as he leaned deeper into the embrace. "I'm glad things can be like this. I'm always afraid you're going to change your mind."

Kurogane shrugged. "I doubt that's going to happen. Unless you've got any other life-shattering revelations you want to throw at me."

He winced.

The ninja sighed. "Stop moping. What happened in Suwa wasn't your fault."

"I'm sorry."

"And stop being sorry. Listen." With his index finger, Kurogane tilted Syaoran's head up. "You didn't know it was going to happen. There's no way you could've prevented it, even if you'd known ahead of time. If anyone's at fault, it's the one who's been pulling the strings since the start. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"We've got an enemy to face." Kurogane released him and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Remember that."

"I won't." _How could I forget him? He's a monster._

The ninja regarded him with eyes as hard as granite, then reached forward and tousled his hair. The touch lasted only a moment before Kurogane turned away and headed into the kitchen.

_I won't forget my purpose here, _Syaoran thought, walking to his bedroom. _I won't forget all the suffering Reed caused us. _


	29. Choices Made

_Author's Notes:_

_We return to the manga for this chapter, so don't be surprised if you see some familiar scenes. I have a pretty good idea where I'm going with this fic, and we still have some time to continue building the relationship before the plot kicks in at full force._

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Coils of cotton wrapped around Syaoran's arm, yanking him off-balance.

He could hear the others, each facing off against their own opponents. The sound of steel sliding against steel alerted him to Kurogane's position, and beyond that, the rattle of chains marked the spot where Fai was fighting his enemy.

_I have to hold my ground, _Syaoran thought, swiping at the bindings with the tournament-approved daggers. The fabric ripped, then pulled back, still under the control of its master. His opponent drew back, manipulating the folds of fabric as if they were ordinary appendages.

Syaoran didn't know why someone would use cotton ribbons as a weapon, but apparently the people of Infinity were willing to try anything to win their chess matches.

_It doesn't matter, _he thought, sidestepping the shifting fabric as it shot toward him. His reflexes were getting faster, a product of regular tournaments, but still, he felt as if their progress in this world had stagnated. Mokona had claimed there was a feather, and they were all waiting for it to appear, yet time refused to move forward.

His opponent jumped back, anticipating his move. Syaoran pressed forward, cutting away at the ribbons even as they snatched his wrist. Another piece twined around his ankle. An abrupt yank pounded his body into the checkerboard floor. The man controlling the ribbons lifted his hand and brought it down, fingers curling into a fist.

Syaoran rolled, nearly jamming his shoulder against the tiles. The man's fist collided with the floor where he'd been lying half a second ago. _There, _he thought, bringing one of his daggers around. With a decisive jerk, he severed his opponent's collar. The man reeled back, a growl rising from his throat as the referee called him back to his side of the board.

A thrill of victory shot through Syaoran's chest. He turned; Kurogane's opponent lay in a heap of blood-spattered ribbons, but he was still wriggling around, trying to regain his bearings.

Syaoran wondered how the ninja knew how to stop just short of killing someone, then decided he didn't want to think about it.

Fai finished off his enemy by shredding apart their spiked collar, then stepped back, twirling his bladed weapon before letting it fall to his side.

"Black Team wins!" the announcer blared. Syaoran let out a breath and looked back at Sakura, sitting inside the egg-shaped seat. She was leaning back slightly, as if she'd been perched on the edge of her seat throughout the match, but she wore the same stoic mask she'd had since the first chess match. She folded her arms in front of her and stood up, balancing awkwardly on her crippled leg. In less than a second, Fai was at her side, propping her up.

There was always a moment, when he saw the two of them working in tandem like that, when he envied their easy companionship. They understood each other without words, standing together as the spectators rained praise upon them.

And there was always a moment, after that first sharp stab of envy, that Syaoran felt guilty for resenting their closeness. _I have no right, _he thought, walking back toward the elevator. _She's not even the Sakura I fell in love with. It shouldn't bother me._

The floor shifted beneath them, and they descended. Syaoran massaged his arms where the cloth had coiled around them. His fingers tingled as blood flow returned to them.

"You all right?" Kurogane asked.

He looked up, then back at his arm. He could see the indents where the cloth had compressed his skin, but already those lines were fading. "I'm fine. I don't think there'll be any bruising." His eyes flickered to the other side of the elevator, where Fai and Sakura were engaged in what he determined to be a similar conversation. "Thanks," he murmured.

Kurogane shrugged, wiping the blood off his vest with a rag he'd pulled from his pocket.

They reached the lower level, where they'd left their belongings. An attendant waited just inside their prep room, her face as smooth as sculpted granite. "There's someone who wishes to see you," she said, her black eyes flashing to each of their faces. "If you would please exit through this door as soon as you are ready, you can meet him."

Tension rippled through their group, dissipating only when the woman left. A silent agreement passed between them, and they hurried into their separate stalls to put their regular clothes back on. Syaoran stripped off the extra chains they'd attached to him for the match, but left the shirt on. He discarded the accessories in the bin on the floor, as he always did, and stepped out.

Sakura remained in her tournament garb, holding onto her spiked collar with both hands. She gave no indication that she'd noticed him as he stepped toward her. He considered speaking to her, but his throat had closed up, the words trapped inside. She wasn't his Sakura, but he still wanted to know what she was thinking about.

Still cared about her even though she was only the image of the one he'd fallen for so long ago.

The others returned before he could say a word, and they left the prep room through the door the black-eyed woman had indicated before.

The air itself felt heavy as they walked into the lobby. People wandered through the vast room in droves, some heading toward other arenas, some heading home. Chess matches were the most popular form of entertainment in this city, and were treated with the same sense of awe as a traveling circus would be treated in Clow. The difference was that it didn't seem to matter if you killed your opponent in this game—doing so only made the sport more entertaining for the audience.

A man clad in a white jacket stepped forward. With a hefty build and a scar on his chin, people seemed to go out of their way to avoid him. "Your team's been making headlines recently," he said, dipping his hands in his pockets as he reached their group. "I'm Geo."

"I see," Sakura said, releasing Fai's hand and stepping toward the stranger. Syaoran tensed. "I was told someone wanted to meet us?"

Geo straightened his shoulders. "The chairman of the chess tournament wishes to invite you to dinner, but the invitation goes only to the master." His eyes flitted toward the rest of them. Syaoran opened his mouth to object, then shut it. _What could I say? I can't _make_ her refuse. _

Sakura stared at Geo for a long moment, as if measuring his sincerity. Her lips formed a flat line, the blood seeping out of them and leaving them pale. "I accept."

"You'll be alone."

Again, Syaoran tensed, praying she'd change her mind. _She can't just go off with a stranger. Not without the rest of us. She must know that. _

Beside him, Kurogane and Fai each lowered their eyes, silently giving her permission to act on her own. Sakura met his gaze, her eyes betraying nothing of her thoughts, then spoke. "I'll be back."

_No, _he thought, as she started to turn. Fai gave her a brittle smile, telling her to come back soon, but Syaoran didn't hear the sentiment. _No. She can't leave. She'll be at risk, this is too important. _

Without thinking, he reached forward, his fingers closing around her arm. She jerked to a stop, head whipping around. Only half a second passed as she stared at his hand, curled so carelessly around her sleeve, yet the moment stretched on so much longer. _Not again. I won't lose you again._

Her face softened, her fingertips brushing over his knuckles. As he came back to the present, his hand went slack and slid down her arm.

"Please don't wait up for me," she said. Syaoran flinched at the coldness in her voice, forcing his arms to fall to his sides even as she turned away from him again. Geo cast one final glance in their direction, then helped her down the steps, toward the door.

_It's not the same, _Syaoran told himself. _Taking her hand now won't change anything. She's chosen her path. _

"If you don't want her to go, you should say it." Kurogane's voice sliced through the silence. Syaoran turned, trying not to look as pathetic as he felt. The ninja regarded him with something akin to annoyance. "Those jerks who can't say a word no matter how much time passes . . . I just don't get them."

He bowed his head, ashamed of his behavior.

"I hate those jerks who fool themselves into thinking that just because they clam up, nobody knows what's going on with them."

Syaoran glanced back in the direction Sakura had gone. Already, she'd slipped out of his reach, like sand falling in an hourglass. "Right. I'm sorry."

Kurogane nodded. "Then let's head back. She'll head back to the apartment when she's done."

Syaoran followed the ninja toward the door. When a frigid gust of air sliced through the sheer fabric of his shirt, he winced. _I left my coat in the apartment again, _he thought, wrapping his arms around his torso to preserve his body heat. After a moment, Kurogane rested a hand on his shoulder, letting his warmth bleed through his shirt. Syaoran grimaced. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

The ninja shrugged. "I know. But she knows enough by now to make her own choices. Even if it's painful, you have to let her."

He nodded, eyes flickering back to Fai. The vampire trailed several feet behind them, far enough that he was unlikely to hear what Syaoran said next. Even so, he kept his words vague. "I don't know what I can choose for myself anymore. If I've meddled in anyone's choices, it's because I don't know how to move forward with my own."

Kurogane's fingers flexed around his shoulder. "Someday, when you've grown up and gotten some real experience with the world, things will get clearer. Whatever choice you make then, no one will begrudge you for it."

_And what are my choices? _he wondered as their apartment building came into view. _It should be an easy choice. I should be able to sacrifice everything for my Sakura without question, but I've let things get too complicated. It doesn't matter what I choose, I'll be hurting someone in the process._

_But who? _


	30. Intimate Thoughts

Chapter Thirty

"Where's Sakura?" Mokona asked, leaping from the windowsill and into Syaoran's arms.

"She'll be out for a while. She . . ." He swallowed, choking back the emotion threatening to spill out. "She said not to wait up for her."

Mokona's ears flattened against her back. Tiny, transparent beads of saltwater formed at the edges of the creature's eyes. "But Sakura will be back, won't she?"

_I hope so. _"Of course." He set Mokona on the edge of the couch and sat down, shivering. The distance between their apartment and the arenas _seemed _insignificant, but in mid-winter, with wind ripping through his tournament clothes as if they were made of cheap lace, it had been a long walk back. Bits of snow clung to his clothes, and every inch of exposed skin tingled.

It almost made their apartment seem warm.

_There's nothing warm here, _he reminded himself. _We're living in a basement in a cheap apartment building, trying to scrape by until we can move forward. And even then, we'll just be moving to another world to do this all again. _He exhaled slowly, trying to abandon the sense of hopelessness in his gut. They _were _making progress, no matter how slow, and this Sakura wanted to stay here. _That's her choice. I can't interfere with that. _

"I suppose I should start making dinner," Fai said. Without Sakura around to keep him cheerful, he seemed even more somber than usual. "How does soup sound?"

"Fine," Kurogane said, sprawling across the other side of the couch. Syaoran edged away, realizing he'd taken the ninja's usual spot, but before he could move more than a few inches, Kurogane caught his hand.

His eyes flickered to Fai, who was busy pulling out pots and pans to prepare dinner. The vampire's close proximity put Syaoran on edge, but even when he tried to withdraw his hand, Kurogane held on.

"What are you . . ."

The ninja gave a barely-perceptible shake of his head. Syaoran closed his mouth. _Why is he paying attention to me _now_? Why, when Fai is standing on the other side of the room?_

Kurogane's hand trailed down his wrist, then back up, disturbing the fine hair of his arm. Syaoran shuddered at the touch. After being out in the cold, the ninja's hand felt hot against his clammy skin. Syaoran felt his body starting to relax, despite Fai's nearness.

"You're freezing."

"I left my jacket here. I didn't think it would be so cold outside."

Kurogane released his arm and leaned back. "You need to be more careful."

The strangest thing about their relationship, Syaoran thought, was how little they had to say to get a point across. He knew at once that the warning went beyond forgetting his jacket. Had Kurogane noticed something? Were they in danger? _Is Sakura in danger? _he wondered, sitting up. He leaned closer to the ninja. "Is something wrong?"

"That guy at the arena . . . He knew who we were without asking."

Syaoran nodded, waiting to see where the red-eyed man was going with this.

"If he's important enough to know the chairman of the chess tournament, he's probably not some ordinary spy. It would take a lot for someone that high up to take an interest in our team."

Syaoran's eyes widened. "You think they've been keeping an eye on us."

"Yes. From the moment we landed here. It's a different feeling from the one I've had since the beginning of this journey. I don't know why they're tailing us, but you have to be careful."

"What about Sakura?"

"I'm not worried about that right now." Kurogane turned away, staring at the wall as if it wasn't even there. "If someone's shadowing us, they're trying to keep a low profile. Harming her would bring them to our attention faster than anything else, so I doubt anything will happen. But whatever's going on in this world, we need to be careful. I want you on your guard."

He nodded. "I understand."

"Good." Kurogane tousled his hair. The sound of pots and pans clanging together continued. Syaoran closed his eyes to tune out the noise. He didn't feel like going back to his room. It felt wrong somehow, as if retreating to his closet-sized bedroom was tantamount to abandoning Sakura. _She'll be fine, _he told himself. _Kurogane's right. They wouldn't hurt her; that would command too much attention. _

"The soup will be a while," Fai announced. Syaoran heard the _clink _of something hitting the coffee table and opened his eyes. The vampire had plucked a bottle of wine from one of the shelves and brought it over to the living room. "We might as well have a drink, while we're waiting." His eye flitted to Syaoran's face for a moment.

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Kurogane for some sort of cue. The ninja lurched to his feet. "You forgot the shot glasses."

Fai smiled hollowly, watching the ninja head into the kitchen. Syaoran's eyes flickered back to the bottle. "Are you sure it's okay?" he asked, remembering Fai's earlier expressions of concern. It had been one of the few times the vampire had spoken to him with anything more than indifference, and he didn't want to worry the man, despite the tension between them.

"That's up to you," Fai said, smiling as Kurogane handed him a glass. Like most of his recent smiles, this one looked hollow. "But I'm going to drink."

"Are you?" Kurogane muttered, leveling a hard glance at Fai. The tension between them was almost palpable.

Syaoran slid away from the coffee table. "Actually, I've got to shower. Maybe later." He backed away from the couch, then headed into the bathroom, turning on the water and stripping off his shirt. After a brief hesitation, he pressed his ear against the wall, tuning out the rushing water, and started eavesdropping.

"You need a drink," Kurogane said, voice barely audible over the rumble of the pipes. "And not just alcohol."

Syaoran pressed his ear harder against the wall, curious. _Not alcohol . . . Blood then? _He closed his eyes, pressing one hand over his free ear to block out the ambient noise. A pause filled the living room, stretching on for several seconds before Fai spoke. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"I can't force you to drink," Kurogane said, his voice businesslike. Syaoran imagined him unsheathing Souhi and bringing the blade across his arm, the same way he always did when Fai needed blood. _I shouldn't be eavesdropping on this, _he thought. _It's private._

Yet he couldn't quite make himself stop listening. Kurogane's voice rumbled from the other side of the wall, almost too quiet for him to hear. "But it's going to flow whether you want it to or not."

Syaoran imagined the blood dripping down Kurogane's arm, hot and sticky. In his mind, the blood was rich with oxygen, a striking crimson against Kurogane's tanned skin. The image flitted across the inside of his eyelids, playing over and over again in his mind.

He heard Fai sigh.

_I shouldn't even be thinking about this, _Syaoran told himself, but the thought of Fai's tongue sliding over Kurogane's skin had already embedded itself in his mind. _Don't think about it. It's not like that._

He took a deep breath and peeled his ear away from the wall. An inch of water had covered the bottom of the tub, the drain sucking it away too slowly to keep it from pooling wherever it flowed. Quickly, Syaoran stepped into the tub, yanked the curtain into place, and lifted the switch to turn the shower on. Scalding water sprayed across his back; he threw himself to the side of the shower, recoiling from the onslaught.

It took him a moment to regain his bearings. He twisted the knob until the water ran cold, then modulated it up to a tolerable temperature. He hung his head under the showerhead, letting the water cascade down his neck, his back. The thought of Fai lapping up Kurogane's blood like it was syrup shifted around in his mind, until all he could think about was what the ninja's skin would taste like against his own tongue.

_There's something wrong with you, _he told himself. _Something deeply, pathologically wrong._ A long breath hissed out between his lips, his stomach contracting in a strange combination of jealousy and desire. A shudder ran down his back, flinging droplets of water across the plastic curtain.

_Don't even think about it, _he told himself, twisting the knob until the frigid water numbed his skin.


	31. Unanswered Questions

Chapter Thirty-One

The front door opened with a creak.

"Sakura!" Mokona cried, bouncing across the cement and flinging herself into the princess's arms. A rare smile flitted across her face, her icy mask slipping for just a moment.

_Safe, _Syaoran thought, rising from the couch. _She's here, she's safe. They didn't hurt her. _

"I'm home," Sakura announced, and like her expression, her voice was filled with an unusual amount of cheer. Syaoran relaxed as she apologized to Mokona for making her worry. When her green eyes touched on each of their faces, Syaoran understood that the message was meant for all of them.

Behind him, Fai stood. His pallor was a bit healthier than it had been a few hours ago, a fact which Syaoran could only attribute to the blood he'd consumed. The thought reminded Syaoran of some of the other things he'd considered during his thirty-minute shower, and he stared at a crack in the wall to keep his mind from straying too far from the present moment.

Sakura's gaze met his for just a moment, icing over again. His breath caught. _She's not your Sakura, _he reminded himself. _It shouldn't matter how she treats you. Not anymore. _His eyes flickered to Kurogane, looming in the kitchen.

"Forgive me," she said, bowing her head and handing Mokona off to Fai. The vampire's eyes widened. "I'm a little tired. I'm going straight to bed." She turned toward her room, her crippled leg swinging awkwardly, held unnaturally straight by the metal brace wrapped around it. When her toe caught on the rug outside her door, Syaoran darted forward, his arm shooting out to steady her. Her eyes lifted to his face, surprise writ bold across her features.

"I'm all right—" she began. He adjusted his hold on her wrist and looked at her for a moment, trying to communicate everything he hadn't been able to say before they'd separated at the arena, wishing he knew how to make her understand why he'd grabbed her hand.

He opened her door for her. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she stepped across the threshold. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," she said.

_Waiting? _he thought, wishing he could see the look on her face. _Does she think it's her fault that I couldn't get away from Reed? _He opened his mouth to deny it, but she spoke before he could.

"And I want you to have your freedom." She reached for the knob.

"Wait," he said, holding the door open with his foot. "You said that, before. What do you mean?"

A shadow fell across her face, her gaze becoming remote, then sharpening as she looked up at him. "You've been trapped long enough. I don't want you to feel responsible for me, or feel like you need to take care of me. I want you to be free and live your life however you think is best. That's all." She turned, pulling hard on the knob so the door swung shut behind her.

Syaoran stared, the seconds ticking by. Eventually, he turned toward the living room, perched himself on the edge of the couch, and picked up an empty shot glass. "I need a drink," he muttered, resting his head in one hand, elbow buried in his thigh. Someone—he didn't look up to see whether it was Kurogane or Fai—picked up the emerald green bottle of liquor and poured several ounces into his glass.

He closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the liquor burn its way down his throat.

* * *

The kid was hammered by the time the mage went to bed.

Kurogane could tell because, even though his speech was remarkably clear and his coordination intact, the kid had lost his usual shyness and had started speaking more openly.

"It shouldn't matter to me," Syaoran said, knocking back another tiny glass of liquor. His gaze was unfocused, as if he was staring at something in the distance. Fai had left about ten minutes ago, and what little inhibition the boy had held onto had gone with him. "I know it shouldn't, but . . . I don't get her. Sakura's not like she was . . . before."

"Of course she's not," Kurogane said irritably. _Who would be, after everything that happened in Tokyo? _

"I feel awful."

"Don't. It wasn't your fault."

"So many different worlds, so many different paths each world could take . . . How many different realities exist where things didn't turn out the way they did for us?"

Kurogane reached for the liquor bottle and poured himself another shot. He'd lost count of how many he'd had, but kept track of how many he'd served the boy. As Syaoran set his glass down for another shot, Kurogane nudged the bottle away from him.

A pair of cloudy brown eyes drifted up to his face. The boy's lips pulled down at the corners.

"You've had enough for one night. You're going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow as it is."

"I'm fine." He reached for the bottle, eyelids drooping.

Kurogane caught his hand between his fingertips, holding him back. Syaoran looked back at him, confusion breaking out across his face. "That's enough for tonight," he said, squeezing the kid's wrist to emphasize his point. "If you keep drinking, you'll get sick."

The kid's head drooped, but he didn't make another move for the bottle. One of the nice things about this kid was that he was that he didn't get belligerent or stupid when he got drunk. Kurogane could see him building up a tolerance for alcohol to rival his own, given time.

"Do you want to do something else?" Syaoran asked, leaning forward and tilting his head back. Kurogane's fingers knotted in his hair, immobilizing him before he could move.

"Not tonight. Not with the others sleeping in the next room."

"I'll be quiet. Please?"

Kurogane closed his eyes and moved his hand to Syaoran's shoulder. Like always, the boy leaned into his touch. Kurogane traced the line of his jaw with the back of his hand, letting his knuckles move over the sensitive skin on the side of Syaoran's neck. He was rewarded with a shiver and a moan.

"Not here," he murmured. The mage slept deeply, but his enhanced hearing gave them little chance to try anything while he was in the apartment. Moreover, Kurogane didn't especially want to take advantage of the kid while he was drunk. It made for an awkward morning.

"Do you . . ." the boy began, then trailed off.

"Do I what?"

"Do you still . . . want me? Not now, I mean, but at all?"

For just a moment, Kurogane forgot how to breathe. Then, he brushed the kid's hair back with his hand. Syaoran tensed, a tremor running down the length of his body. "Go to bed," Kurogane said. "We can talk about this later."

The boy stared at him for a long moment, eyes foggy with the alcohol he'd consumed. Then, bracing one hand against the armrest, he rose from the couch. There he stood, swaying slightly. Kurogane watched, alarmed, as the kid staggered toward his room. When the boy listed too far to one side, Kurogane shot to his feet and caught him before he could hit the ground. "Kid?"

The boy looked up, lips parting slightly. A faint flush crept into his cheeks as he found his footing again. "Sorry." Syaoran's tanned fingers clung to his sleeve as he struggled to stay standing. After a moment, his fingers unfurled and he stepped back, blinking.

_Yep, _Kurogane thought, resting a hand between the boy's shoulder blades. _He's hammered. _"Come on. I'll take you to bed."

"Really?"

He wanted to roll his eyes at the spark of hope in the boy's voice—he hadn't meant it _that _way—but he managed to keep his expression in check as he led Syaoran into his bedroom. Twice, the boy nearly fell, and twice, Kurogane caught him before he could. It was a relief when the kid slumped down on the narrow bed without hitting his head on something.

"Sleep it off," he ordered. The sheets flapped as he tossed them on top of the kid's body. "If you're lucky, you'll sleep through your hangover."

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" Syaoran asked.

Kurogane's spine went rigid. _How drunk _are _you? _

At his silence, the boy sobered a bit. "I . . . No. Never mind. Stupid question."

_Damn it, _Kurogane thought, kneeling beside the kid's bed. "Do you really want one?"

Hurt touched those coffee-colored eyes; the boy rolled over, choosing to face the wall instead of him. "No. It's fine. I was joking."

"Okay then." He stood and started for the living room. He paused in the doorway, then turned back to see the kid still facing the wall, eyes open. Kurogane figured the kid knew he was still standing there, and could probably see him from the corner of his eye, but Syaoran never turned to look at him.

When Kurogane didn't leave after a moment, the boy spoke. "You never answered my question."

"Huh?"

"Do you still want me? Did you ever?"

Kurogane sighed. "Ask me again tomorrow."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Again, I'm following the manga pretty closely here. This story is going to parallel the plot of the manga, but will instead be adjusted for KuroSyao instead of SyaoSaku. My reason for doing this is to make myself write the KuroSyao scenario in the most plausible way possible, as if it could actually have been part of the original storyline, and to provide closure for the characters(eventually). There is, of course, a lot of time that passed in the manga in which I'm going to insert KuroSyao milestones and original plot points, but for the sake of the overarching plot, I'm hugging close to the books for this one._

_Also, I'm taking the rest of August off, regarding this fic. I've officially run out of stored-up chapters to edit, and I'm behind on most of my other updates, so I'm giving myself the rest of the month to write so I can start updating reliably again when September starts. In the meantime, I'll try to update_ Reversal of Fate _and my other fics. Please understand that I have no intention whatsoever of abandoning this fic, and that I will post a new chapter on September 1st. I apologize for the inconvenience. _


	32. Rough Morning

_Author's Notes:_

_I have returned! And I have enough chapters prewritten to update every three days for the next month or so. But anyway, since it's been so long, a recap is in order: in the previous chapter, Syaoran got drunk, then started questioning whether Kurogane had ever wanted him. Syaoran then asked for a goodnight kiss, which he did not receive, due to Kurogane's decision not to take advantage of someone while drunk. And all those bits are quite important for this chapter. Anyway, thank you to all my wonderful readers and reviewers. I couldn't keep writing this stuff without you._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two

Syaoran didn't ask again the next day.

The main reason, he told himself, was that he'd only started to question Kurogane's motives after they'd both consumed a considerable amount of alcohol. The other reason he kept his mouth shut was because every whisper of sound struck his eardrums with the force of a hammer.

He curled up in bed, clutching his skull as he buried his head beneath his pillow. The early morning had been the worst; Fai had gotten up to make pancakes, as he often did early in the morning, and every time the pots and pans had clanged together, it had felt like someone was driving an iron spike into Syaoran's skull. Even when the clatter had subsided, he'd still been able to hear the sizzle of batter hitting the pan. The smell of syrup and butter had been so strong, he'd clamped his teeth together to keep from throwing up.

It was worse than his clone's hangover in Outo. So instead of getting up for breakfast, he pulled the blankets over his body and hoped the headache, at least, would go away soon.

It didn't.

Half an hour later, there was a knock on his door. Syaoran stayed quiet, the percussive tap slamming into his eardrum. _Go away, _he thought. _Please, go away._

"Kid? You awake?"

He moaned, half-inclined to answer the door because Kurogane was standing on the other side, and half-inclined to shut his eyes and never open them again. When Kurogane knocked more insistently, the urge to get up won out. He threw his sheets aside and staggered to the door, head swimming.

"Morning," he mumbled, narrowing his eyes against the sunlight streaming in from the living room window.

Kurogane stared at him for a long moment. Dimly, Syaoran remembered asking for a goodnight kiss, before he'd drifted off. He couldn't remember, through his pounding headache, whether he'd actually gotten one. Given that Kurogane had never answered his question, Syaoran doubted it.

He thought about asking now, trying to figure out how to approach the question subtly, since Fai and Sakura were still in the living room, munching on dry cereal as a post-breakfast snack. Fai's face looked sallow, his blond hair limp, and Syaoran surmised that he wasn't the only one with a hangover this morning. Sakura looked marginally better, but she hadn't been drinking, so her apparent grogginess still alarmed him.

_Stop caring, _he told himself. _You can't afford to care about her so much, not with your Sakura still out there somewhere._

Syaoran blinked, realizing he'd been standing in the doorway for almost a minute. He looked up at Kurogane, opening his mouth to apologize for his inattentiveness, but the ninja spoke before he could.

"You look like shit."

"Yeah . . ." He bowed his head, wondering what embarrassing things he'd done while he'd been drunk. The possibilities made him blush.

Kurogane snorted. "Go shower. You'll feel better afterwards."

Syaoran nodded, swaying slightly as he walked to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, wincing at the sound it made, then leaned over the sink, trying to assess the likelihood of either passing out where he stood or throwing up into the basin. When neither occurred after a minute, he shed yesterday's clothes and double-checked to make sure his spare outfit was in its usual place, so he wouldn't have to walk back to his room in a towel.

_Kurogane didn't say anything about last night. _The thought came, unbidden, and set itself in his mind. Kurogane seemed to have little sympathy for anyone with a hangover, which was understandable, so didn't it follow that he had no sympathy for people who did stupid things while drunk?

_Unless we did something else, _he thought, heat rising to his cheeks. _Something he wouldn't want the others to find out about. _

The thought chilled him, even as he stepped under the searing fountain and pulled the shower curtain shut. Their relationship balanced on a knife's edge, the line between intimacy and friendship crossed abruptly, without warning. Drunk as he'd been, it was entirely possible that he'd requested something he'd had no right to ask for. And given the ninja's lack of irritation this morning, he doubted there had been a confrontation. That could only mean things had ended up . . . differently.

_No, _he thought. _I was still dressed when I woke up. That must mean nothing happened. _

Yet still, he couldn't quite shake the thought. Fai and Sakura had been in the next room, certainly, but that sort of thing was easy to overlook while drunk. _What if they heard something? What if they know? _His breath came faster, hot water running down his lips.

Another thought struck him: _Who asks for a goodnight kiss when nothing else has happened? _

Shame and guilt and horror flooded through him, mingling together until they formed a haze of misery over all his thoughts. He had to know what he'd done last night, but it would be hours before the others left for their evening walk. Hours of waiting, wondering. The mere thought of waiting that long was a torment in itself.

_I could ask Kurogane if we could talk alone. _He banished the thought from his mind. If someone _had _overheard something suspicious, going off with Kurogane would only make things worse. _No, I just have to wait. _

He hung his head, massaging cheap shampoo through his hair, then standing under the cascade as it changed randomly from boiling hot to numbingly cold. Even when he stepped out of the shower half an hour later, he felt unclean, and still dazed from his hangover.

Syaoran headed to the kitchen, hoping the others had retreated to their respective rooms while he'd been showering. Instead, they were flitting about the living room, tidying up. He paused, feeling guilty for being so self-centered while they'd been maintaining the apartment, then went over to the kitchen sink to do the dishes. He hadn't eaten yet, and his stomach still snarled at the smell, but he felt more nauseous than hungry, anyway.

The sound of plates sliding together in the soapy water grated on his eardrums as he worked. He welcomed the pain now; it distracted him from more troubling thoughts.

Once he'd finished the dishes, he washed the table and replaced the placemats so people could have lunch later on. After that, he scrubbed the pancake stains off the countertops with a washrag and reorganized the stuff in the refrigerator so the oldest items were near the front. By the time he finished with that, the living room had been cleaned, and the apartment looked pristine.

Fai and Sakura headed back to their rooms, leaving him alone with Kurogane. Syaoran scoured the cupboards for something good to eat, having seen nothing appetizing in the fridge. He was pretty sure he'd be able to keep something down, now. When he found a can of chicken noodle soup, he read the directions and poured it into a bowl.

"You look better," Kurogane said, watching him from across the room.

Syaoran glanced up, face flushing. The compliment didn't make him feel any better. There had been plenty to improve on when he'd dragged himself out of bed an hour ago.

He placed the bowl of soup in the microwave, and set the timer for the appropriate interval. He sensed, rather than heard, Kurogane approaching from behind. The ninja rested a hand on each shoulder. "You all right?"

_Now _there was concern in his voice. Syaoran craned his neck to meet the ninja's gaze, but the man's expression was distant, unreadable. Syaoran opened his mouth to say he was fine, then hesitated, glancing at the flimsy doors separating him from the others.

Something sparked in Kurogane's eyes when he didn't answer right away. "Is your hangover _that _bad?"

"No, but . . ." Again, he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, giving them impact, meaning. "Did anything . . . _happen_, last night?"

Kurogane's expression turned to stone. His hands slid away from Syaoran's shoulders and fell to his sides. "No. Nothing happened."

Relief thrummed in his veins, a dizzying counterpoint to his earlier panic. "Oh. Okay."

Kurogane's jaw was set in a hard line. "You honestly think I'd take advantage of you while you were drunk?"

Syaoran flinched, bowing his head; he hadn't considered that angle. _I should have, _he thought. _But_ _Kurogane is too honorable to do something like that. _He swallowed thickly, ashamed of himself for not even considering the ninja's perspective. "I'm sorry."

"You're not drunk now."

He looked up. "Huh?"

Kurogane stepped forward, a hand coiling around his wrist and pinning him against the edge of the countertop. Panic shot through his body, as sharp as the relief he'd felt a moment ago, and on the opposite side of the spectrum. He glanced at the row of bedrooms on the side of their apartment. If one of the others walked out right now, how would he explain their position?

The ninja's fingertip brushed along the length of his carotid artery, then moved to his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met. Syaoran stared back, terror leaving him speechless, immobile. Kurogane leaned forward, until their lips were only inches apart. He asked only one question. "Do you really think I'd need to get you drunk to take advantage of you?"


	33. Mistakes and Judgments

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Do you really think I'd need to get you drunk to take advantage of you?" Kurogane let all his frustration, all his fury, seep into the words, painting them black. Syaoran leaned back, flinching from the accusation.

For a moment, not a word passed between them. Annoyed by the silence, Kurogane tightened his hold on the boy's wrist and pressed it to the counter, effectively pinning him. "Do you?"

Syaoran looked up at him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. All the color had washed out of his face, leaving him sickly pale. Still, he said nothing, his eyes flickering to the row of bedrooms.

Conscious of the vampire's sharp hearing, Kurogane lowered his voice. "Do you think I have that little self-control? Do you think I can't restrain myself when the others are in the next room, or when you're too drunk to put up a fight? _Pathetic._"

Syaoran winced, leaning back even farther. His eyes darted around, looking everywhere but his face. Kurogane released one of the kid's wrists and coiled his fingers in Syaoran's hair, forcing him to look up again. His coffee-colored eyes shimmered with unshed tears. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. "No." Syaoran closed his eyes, tears spilling out of the corners. The salty beads caught the light, each shining like a crystal as they rolled down the kid's face. "No," he said again, shaking his head. As his eyes opened, another pair of tears slipped from his eyes.

The microwave _beeped, _shattering the spell. Kurogane jumped back, jolted back into reality, and watched the boy rub his wrist, shoulders curling inward. Syaoran stood there, panting, bowing his head and shrinking back in an effort to make himself as small as possible.

Like a trapped animal.

Kurogane stepped away and turned his back, knuckles digging into his side. Behind him, he heard the kid's labored breathing, the faint rasp of terror. "Your soup is ready," Kurogane said. Even as the words left his mouth, he had to admit that was about the least helpful thing he could've come up with, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. All he could think about was the first time the boy had tried to kiss him, months ago, when he'd thrown him into a wall. Somehow, the guilt he'd felt then seemed like nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

The kid had trusted him. In less than thirty seconds, he'd shattered that trust.

Behind him, the kid thawed out enough to walk to the microwave. Kurogane listened to the door pop open, trying to lose himself in the mundane sounds of the kitchen. The domesticity of the situation seemed so jarring now that the intensity of the moment was fading. As much as he hated this apartment, everything about it was unremarkable, ordinary—it seemed wrong that he should be able to strike fear into someone in such an unremarkable place, as if he'd violated some law of the universe by making this place anything but plain.

"I'm heading out," he said, starting for the door. He half-expected the boy to say something as he donned his coat, but Syaoran was silent. A glance back revealed that he was stirring his bowl of soup with a spoon from the drawer, facing away from the door despite the countertops right by his side.

Sick to his stomach, Kurogane unlocked the front door and stepped into the stairwell, closing it behind him. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. It was amazing how quickly guilt had crept in where the frustration had been a moment ago, especially considering how rarely he felt remorse, but now it hit him like a physical blow.

He felt like a monster, like the demons he'd slain in Suwa, only worse. Worse because he knew he was better than that, worse because he'd used intimidation to control the boy while a demon would've simply used physical force. Worse because Tomoyo had sent him away so he wouldn't be a monster, and now he'd failed her, too.

Behind him, he heard the front door lock. He turned, staring at the brass handle as if it held some secret message. _The kid locked me out, _he thought, a strange ache forming in his throat. Swallowing, he turned away from the door. _He has the right, after what I did. It'll be hours before the mage takes the princess out for their walk. I can wait outside until then. _

He hiked up the stairs, accepting his banishment. When he reached the lobby, he turned sharply toward the door, keeping his head down. The moment he stepped outside, a frigid wind assaulted him, pinning him where he stood. It was as cold as any winter night in Nihon, but he'd experienced worse conditions on this journey; he could endure this.

He'd have walked through fire if he'd thought it would rectify the situation.

* * *

Syaoran locked the door, throat tight with the tears he'd already let slip, feeling a twinge of guilt as he barred the ninja from returning to the apartment, but also a smattering of relief. This time, at least, he knew the indiscretion wasn't his own.

He walked back to the microwave, wiping the saltwater from his face with his sleeve. Better to appear relaxed if the others decided to head into the living room. At least that way, he could deny that anything had happened.

He took the bowl of soup back to his room, uncomfortable out in the open, and locked his bedroom door after him. He tried to tell himself it was habit that motivated his caution, but the thought of having one more barrier between himself and the red-eyed man right now was alluring. Syaoran doubted Kurogane would return so soon, even though he was perfectly capable of knocking down either door if he really wanted to get in. But then, he'd also doubted Kurogane would shove him against the kitchen counter and . . . _And do what? _Syaoran asked himself. _Scare you? That's not a crime. Even if it was, how would you prove it?_

The train of thought disturbed him, and he hurriedly went on to eat his soup. He didn't want to think of Kurogane that way, didn't want to think of him as a threat. Yet even now, he felt out of control, as if the world could come crashing down around him at any moment. As he struggled to swallow another mouthful of chicken noodle soup, he realized his throat was too tight, his stomach too knotted up, to eat. He set the steaming bowl aside and buried his face in his hands, breathing slowly as he remembered that Fai was likely on the other side of the thin wall behind him. He had to be careful about how much noise he made, with the others so near.

_Unless Fai already heard something, _he thought, panic shooting through him. His breath hitched, and he struggled to regain control of himself before he started crying again. Fai would wonder what was wrong, and then he would ask, or start fitting the pieces together, and Syaoran wasn't ready to face that conversation.

_I'll have to wait for him to come back to talk to him, _Syaoran thought, remembering the sound of the lock clicking into place. He wrapped his arms around his torso, stomach churning. _Am I even ready to face him again? _

He exhaled, trying to think logically. _I shouldn't be so scared. Nothing happened. _His fingers curled into fists as he imagined what _could _have happened. He'd seen the way Kurogane had jerked back when the microwave's timer had gone off—clearly he'd realized how threatening he'd seemed. It wasn't fair to judge the ninja for something he already felt guilty about.

Yet . . . Syaoran thought about the way the ninja had thrown him into the wall, the first time he'd tried to kiss him, and that sadistic smile he got right before a fight. Syaoran had known from the beginning that Kurogane was prone to violent outbursts. Since the start of this relationship, the red-eyed man had often asked him why he'd chosen to seek comfort with him and not someone else. For Syaoran, it had only seemed natural to seek attention from the one person who hadn't been openly hostile to him after Tokyo.

_Was I wrong? _Syaoran wondered, ribs constricting around his lungs. He didn't want to think about this, didn't want to deal with it, but the thoughts kept coming anyway. _Am I that desperate, that I can't even think about this logically? I shouldn't have even started this to begin with. _He took a deep breath, plopping down on the edge of his bed, legs folding so his knees were pressed against his chest. Again, he felt a growing ache in his throat, and had to struggle to keep his emotions in check.

He'd never felt so out of control as he had in that moment, pinned against the counter. Worse, he had no idea how to get back _in _control. Frustration replaced the panic. _How could I let it come to this? I'd have been better off locking myself in my room for good. _

He curled up tighter, protecting himself from the rest of the world. After several minutes, he remembered the soup sitting on his desk and walked over to finish it. His room was cramped and cold and empty, but it was the only place where he could control everything—who was allowed inside, when the lights came on, how everything was organized. And he needed the control, right now. Needed it more than he needed to tell anyone about what had happened.

Needed it because everything else was spiraling out of control, and this was the only place he could hold onto.


	34. Apologies and Requests

_Author's Notes: _

_Something strange happened, and this chapter didn't show up after I posted it the first time. So I'm re-posting in the hopes that it will work now._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kurogane stayed out past sunset.

The wind bit at his face until his cheeks were raw and his lips were cracked from the dry air. Winter in Infinity was harsher than winter in Nihon, but Kurogane didn't mind the chill. It was better this way.

Initially, he'd come up to the rooftop for lack of a better place to go. Apart from the arena, the only place he knew well in this country was their apartment, and considering he'd been locked out eight hours ago, going back wasn't an option. He'd considered looking for a bar, but rejected the thought as too self-indulgent and irresponsible.

Normally, he scorned anyone who believed suffering in silence was a way to deal with one's problems. But as the frigid air nipped at his skin and sunk its numbing claws into his flesh, Kurogane figured that _this_, at least, was better than going somewhere to get shit-faced and having to return to the apartment hours later.

Better this than trying to blur memories that he damn well knew weren't going to go away.

So he sat there, waiting, thinking, piecing together the apology he was obligated to give and knowing whatever he said would never, _ever _be enough.

The kid was afraid of him. Again.

_And he has every right to be, _Kurogane thought, breathing deeply just to feel the sting of cold air in his lungs. _Just like he had every right to be afraid of you when you threw him into a wall. _Kurogane's lips twisted into a grimace. He'd always been quick to anger—his reaction hadn't been much of a surprise to him then. A disappointment, yes, but not a surprise. But what he'd done this morning . . . that was bad. Horrible. Controlling.

He hated himself for it.

As the last streaks of sunlight faded from the sky, Kurogane stood and walked back to the elevator, staring at the dusky sky as he waited. Kurogane watched each world's celestial patterns, mostly out of habit, but also so that when he finally saw the familiar sky of Nihon, he'd know where to go. Knowing those patterns gave him a grasp of time. He knew the mage and the princess had probably just started their walk, and that they'd likely left the door unlocked in their absence—a lack of caution Kurogane had given up trying to rectify. And even though he knew he deserved to spend a night out in the cold, he wasn't so much of a masochist that he would do it willingly, just or not.

The elevator groaned as he stepped inside; he hit the appropriate button to bring him down to the lobby, then leaned against the wall opposite the mechanical doors as the box descended. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors parted, and he strode straight through the lobby and down the steps leading to the apartment.

He paused outside the door, listening. This, too, was habit—assessing a situation before getting involved. Tonight, he wasn't sure what he was listening for. He didn't want to have to explain himself if the mage and the princess were still there, but he also didn't want to be standing out here when they got back.

The only thing he heard from the apartment was silence.

With a sigh, he turned the brass handle. The door swung open, unresisting, and Kurogane found himself staring into an empty kitchen. A cursory glance revealed no sign of habitation, apart from a few half-empty liquor bottles on the rack in the kitchen, but he did notice the kid's door was shut.

_Might as well get it over with, before things get any worse. _He walked over to the kid's bedroom and knocked lightly on the door, half-hoping the boy wouldn't answer.

The door came open with a soft creak, and a pair of coffee-brown eyes met his. They stood there for a moment in silence, the boy clinging to the door with one hand as if prepared to slam it at the slightest provocation. When the silence stretched out too long, the boy spoke. "Is there something you needed, Kurogane-san?"

The words were like a punch to the gut. Kurogane lowered his head, feeling like a beaten dog. "I need to apologize," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady even as he felt his already-fractured honor breaking even further. "For this morning."

Syaoran looked at him for a long moment, his expression hauntingly remote. It was like looking into the mismatched eyes of the Other, seeing blankness where there had once been emotion. Kurogane almost wished the boy was angry, just so he wouldn't have to face something so . . . hollow.

He exhaled, fists tightening at his side. The words came tumbling out, sounding much harsher than he'd intended. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't realize what I was doing. I didn't realize how scared you were." _My fault, this time. Not a misunderstanding. _"I didn't mean to make you think that I'd take advantage of you. Which I guess I sort of _did_, but . . ." _Fuck, why can't I say it right? _He looked at the kid's face, the muscles of his throat standing out along his neck as he clamped down on the steady ache in his windpipe. "So I'm sorry."

Syaoran said nothing, merely meeting his gaze for a moment before looking down. His expression hadn't changed—his eyes still looked hollow, his face devoid of all emotion. It was almost like he hadn't heard.

_It's not enough, _Kurogane realized, as the boy stepped back and started to close the door. It was sheer impulse that prompted him to speak. "Wait."

The door stopped moving. Syaoran peered around the edge, still barely reacting. "Yes?"

Kurogane was not a verbose person—he said what needed to be said so that it was clear and to the point—but neither had he ever fumbled with his words the way he did now, mouth opening and closing as he started sentences and abandoned them. "I was just—I don't know. I wasn't thinking. What happened this morning . . ." He exhaled sharply, resting one hand against the doorframe. It occurred to him that, if he'd been so inclined, it would've been easy for Syaoran to slam the door and break every bone in his hand, but instead, the boy opened the door half an inch wider, his gaze probing.

Kurogane let out a breath, mulling over what he was about to offer for several seconds before deciding he deserved whatever ill came of it. "Look, if you want me to make it up to you, I will. Whatever you ask of me, I'll do it."

Syaoran's eyes flashed up to his, and for the first time since the door had opened, Kurogane saw genuine anger on the kid's face. "Whatever I want?" he repeated sharply.

He grit his teeth. "Yes. Whatever you want."

Through the tempest of fury, Kurogane caught a glimpse of surprise in the kid's eyes. Syaoran paused, seeming to consider his offer. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped and eerily calm. "Your sword."

His hand went automatically to Souhi's hilt, but fell away when he saw the flash of panic—like lightning bursting through the clouds—shoot across the kid's face. Kurogane held his breath for a moment, then spoke. "What about it?"

"Leave it in the living room."

Kurogane watched the boy for a long moment, saw the way his commanding posture collapsed in on itself, becoming timid. Then, he retreated from the door and leaned Souhi and its sheath against the side of the couch. "What else?"

Syaoran hesitated, then opened his door wider and moved to the side, silently giving him permission to enter. Unarmed, Kurogane stepped inside, barely clearing the doorway before the kid shut the door and locked it.

"Do you remember the first time I let you in here?" Syaoran asked from behind him.

"Of course I do."

There was a beat of silence, followed by another question. "Did you enjoy it?"

Kurogane set his jaw, remembering that evening in vivid detail. Heat crept into his cheeks as he answered. "Yes."

This pause stretched on longer than the first. When Syaoran finally spoke, his voice was almost inaudible. "Are you ashamed of it?"

"Are you?" he countered, turning just in time to see the kid flinch.

"Just answer the question."

Kurogane sighed. "No. I'm not."

With every query, the boy's voice seemed to get weaker, quieter. "Why not?"

"Why am I not ashamed of it?" He heard the dangerous edge in his voice, and forced himself to calm down.

Syaoran nodded. "There must be some reason. Did you feel you were honor-bound to make sure I was okay?"

"No."

"Then was it because you thought it would make me happy?"

He considered that for several seconds before answering. "No."

Syaoran's breath caught, and he visibly steeled himself to keep going. "Then . . . Was it because you wanted me?"

_You just don't fucking get it, do you? _"No."

"I see." The boy's shoulders slumped, and he turned toward the door to unlock it.

Kurogane sighed. "The reason I'm not ashamed of it is because I _chose _not to be ashamed of it. I don't regret what we did that night. I don't think you should, either, but that's your decision to make."

Syaoran opened the door. "That's all I wanted."

"I wasn't done."

Two brown eyes snapped to his face. Syaoran's lips parted slightly.

The ninja went on. "I did want you to be happy, and I did _want_ you, that way. I'm not ashamed of that, either. The _only _thing I'm ashamed of between us is that I put you in a position to be afraid of me. And that was wrong."

Syaoran stared at him, breathing hard. Abruptly, he closed the bedroom door, locked it, and smashed his lips against Kurogane's. His body went stiff in surprise, then relaxed, his arms sliding around the boy's torso. Syaoran's fingernails skimmed his arms, then his torso, his lips becoming more insistent. Then, gasping for air, the boy pulled away.

Kurogane released him at once, wary. The boy pressed his palms to Kurogane's chest, pushing him back until his shoulder blades were pressed against the wall. Syaoran grabbed each of his wrists and pinned them to the sheetrock, his hold firm, but not painful.

It was almost the exact same position Kurogane had held him in this morning.

Syaoran held him there, the minutes ticking by as his breathing slowed. After nearly five minutes, Syaoran released his wrists and shuffled back half a step, breathing hard. "There's one other thing I want."

"What is it?" He was surprised to hear how winded he sounded.

Syaoran met his gaze, eyes blazing with a boldness that hadn't been there before. "You."


	35. Supernova

_Author's Notes:_

_More smut in this chapter. Same rules apply as last time—viewer discretion is advised._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Me?" Kurogane's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Yes," Syaoran said, jaw tight. "But only if you want to." Heat rose to his cheeks, then rushed lower at the thought of what they might do. _If Kurogane agrees._

"You aren't afraid?"

He shook his head, fighting the surge of desire he felt. The words had seemed almost tender, whispered so softly, but that didn't mean anything if the man wasn't willing to go that far.

A callused hand skimmed over Syaoran's cheek; he jumped, startled by the coldness of the ninja's skin. Kurogane withdrew at once. "What's wrong?"

"Your hands are freezing," Syaoran said.

"You locked me out of the apartment."

He tried not to smile—the statement hadn't sounded upset, or even annoyed. His lips pulled up at the corners anyway, and he buried his face in the man's shirt to hide his amusement. When the ninja didn't respond, he drew back, uncertain.

"You said my hands were cold. I figured that meant you didn't want me to touch you."

"Oh." He frowned, then leaned forward again, pressing his cheek against the ninja's shirt. _Does that mean he wants to touch me? _"I don't mind if you do."

Kurogane's lips captured his at the same moment his hands came to rest on Syaoran's pelvis. He froze, startled by the intimacy of the touch, then returned the kiss, lips parting as electricity danced between them. His breathing accelerated, the blood rushing to his head, then doubling back, concentrating between his thighs. Awkwardly, he scooted back, not wanting the other man to see just how quickly his body responded.

One of Kurogane's hands slid up the small of his back, then between his shoulder blades, before finally coming to rest on the back of his neck. It occurred to Syaoran, in that moment, just how easily the ninja could snap his spine. Strong as he was, he wouldn't even need both hands.

His heart quickened at the risk. This time, he broke the kiss, tilting his head forward so it rested on Kurogane's collarbone. Another beat, steady but quick, sounded in his ears, and it took him a moment to realize he could actually _hear _the ninja's heartbeat. _And he's normally so quiet, _he thought irrelevantly, pressing his ear more firmly over the ninja's chest.

Kurogane dragged a hand through his hair, nails nipping lightly at the back of his scalp. Syaoran shuddered against him, still listening.

"What is it?" the red-eyed man finally asked, stroking the middle of his back.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

Silence passed between them. Finally, Kurogane asked, "What does it sound like?"

"Strong. Fast." He searched his mind for a more descriptive word. "Vital."

"Hmm." Kurogane tilted his face down so their foreheads touched. Syaoran moved the last few inches so their lips could meet. Their kiss spread through his lips like liquid fire, seeping into his blood and blanketing the rest of his body in a warm haze. He moaned.

He'd once read that a person's true colors only came out in love and war. He had to figure that if Kurogane could kiss him so gently, there must've been an untapped reservoir of tenderness hidden deep inside him.

Kurogane's hands were warmer now than they'd been at the start. At the barest pressure, Syaoran shifted, body moving in a dance as old as life itself. Every kiss, every touch, slowed the fire in his veins so it lingered longer, burned hotter. By the time the ninja's hand moved over the curve of Syaoran's pelvis, his body was twitching with desire. "Should we . . . get undressed now?"

The ninja's hand moved lower, massaging him through his pants. "That . . . would help."

Syaoran nodded, fingers trailing down the other man's ribs and tugging at his waistband. At the same time, Kurogane unwound the belt holding Syaoran's jeans in place, letting it hit the floor with a thud. Instinctively, he wriggled free of the loosened garment; the waistband caught on the widest part of his hips, and he made a sound of discontent, reaching for the zipper.

Kurogane beat him to it, pulling the zipper down with his thumb and letting his hand slide over the front of Syaoran's underwear as his pants slid down his legs. Again, he twitched, body instinctively pressing closer to the warmth, aching with need.

"Or we could skip that step," Kurogane murmured. "You might not make it that long."

He wanted to deny it. Truly, he did. But Kurogane had a point. "Just—" He gasped as the ninja pressed harder. His hands coiled around the ninja's arms, nails digging into his skin. "That feels good."

Kurogane grunted in acknowledgement, his hand sliding back and forth, applying pressure in all the unexpected places. Surprise and desire pushed Syaoran forward, his grip on the man's arms tightening with each pass. He groaned, pressing his face into the ninja's chest to stifle the embarrassing noises building at the back of his throat. "I don't think I can hold back much longer," he said, breathless.

"Then don't," the ninja whispered in a voice like silk and honey. So tender. So smooth. It didn't sound like him, but that made the lie complete, made it seem as if there was something more than desire or companionship at play here. Syaoran felt the points of Kurogane's fingers pressing through the thin barrier of cloth, the fingers knotting in his hair. Sparks of pain shot across his scalp, a sharp accent to the pleasure thrumming through his lower body. Syaoran's heartbeat pounded in every fingertip.

The sensation reached a peak, and for a moment, the world exploded with brilliant white light. His mind raced for comparisons as the pleasure flooded through him, burning hotter and brighter than anything before it. It was like a supernova trapped inside his body, pressing outward with a force unmatched by anything else in the universe. His knees buckled, and his grip on Kurogane's arms went slack without a conscious command from his mind. He was only dimly aware of the ninja holding him up as each spasm of release rocked his body.

In the end, he collapsed to his knees, cradled against the ninja's chest as the man knelt with him. "I think . . ." he began, his voice trembling with the rest of his body. "that was even better than the first time."

Kurogane pulled him closer and pressed his lips to Syaoran's throat. "Good."

They sat like that for a while before Syaoran realized he hadn't repaid the favor. He shifted, resting his head in the crook of the other man's neck. "What should we do now?"

Kurogane snorted. "You can't tell me you're ready to try anything else after _that_."

"No, I mean . . ." Blood rushed to his cheeks. "What do you want me to do for you?"

His red eyes widened with surprise; almost a minute passed before he answered. "You don't have to do anything."

"I want to. And it's only fair."

Tanned fingers swept through his hair. Syaoran leaned back, closing his eyes and just reveling in the closeness. Lips brushed against his cheek, his jaw, his ear. So much like love, he could almost believe it. There, the ninja paused to speak. "Don't ask, then. Do whatever you want. I'll tell you if I don't like it."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Then we'll need the bed."

Kurogane rose while he pulled his pants up. He'd have to change his underwear after this, but he wouldn't have to wash the sheets again. At least, he didn't think he'd have to.

He approached the bed. Kurogane sat on the edge of the mattress while he stood, and they were actually at eye-level with each other. Syaoran wrapped his arms around the ninja's neck, their lips meeting again. His hands slid down the ninja's back, then curved around his hips until they came to rest at the zipper. He pulled it down as slowly as possible, stalling, then unclasped the button above that. It snapped open with a _pop_.

Syaoran hesitated, unsure what came next. Kurogane's fingertip found his chin and tilted his head up so their eyes met. A silent conversation passed between them, one where an arched eyebrow conveyed surprise and anticipation, and a touch on his cheek meant trust, acceptance.

There were no words after that. Syaoran positioned his body between the other man's legs and freed his growing erection from his jeans. Kurogane let out a relieved sigh, then breathed in sharply as Syaoran wrapped his lips around the tip. His leg twitched, and the hand that had touched Syaoran's cheek a moment ago fisted in his hair. After a brief hesitation, Syaoran closed his eyes and ran his tongue just under the tip.

Kurogane gave a wordless moan, clutching his hair even tighter. Syaoran sucked harder, wondering what other sounds the ninja could make. His face flushed at the possibilities.

It wasn't as bad as he'd anticipated. Syaoran was careful, and the substance that flowed across his tongue in the beginning was salty and bitter, but not horrible. Every few seconds, the ninja would draw in a sharp breath, or his grip would tighten, ripping strands of hair from Syaoran's scalp. He stayed focused, accepting the tiny pain as a sign he was doing well.

It also didn't take as long as he'd expected. Within minutes, the ninja was hunched over, one hand in Syaoran's hair, the other clamped tight around his shoulder. So it shouldn't have come as such a shock when the hot, creamy liquid flooded his mouth. He recoiled, clamping his palm over his lips. His stomach pitched and rolled as if he was on a boat, his throat heaving with the need to gag. Drawing on every ounce of willpower, he tilted his head back and swallowed.

Kurogane hadn't let go of his hair. "Where did you learn _that_?"

Syaoran swallowed again, then cleared his throat loudly. "Read it in a book," he choked out.

"What kind of books are you _reading_?"

_Apparently unrealistic ones. _He coughed, wincing. "I thought . . . Are you okay?"

Seeming bewildered by the implication that he could be anything _but _okay, Kurogane spoke. "I'm fine. You're the one who's . . . Are _you _okay?"

He had to think about that for a moment. The taste was mostly gone, and he wasn't choking anymore. His stomach grumbled, resenting what he'd just done to it, but physically, he felt fine. "You just startled me. I didn't think . . ." His face warmed, and he sat down on the edge of the bed as an excuse to avoid meeting Kurogane's eyes.

"Didn't think what?"

The flush spread to the back of his neck. "I didn't think that would be so . . . effective."

"I lasted longer than you."

There was a pause as Syaoran tried to reel in his embarrassment. His mind spun in lazy circles, overwhelmed. It was Kurogane who broke the silence. "It's been weeks since we were together like this."

"Is that a long time?"

Irritation flickered across the red-eyed man's face. "Of course it is. Don't you—" He broke off, as if something had occurred to him. The annoyance vanished from his face. "I guess you wouldn't know that," he said.

Syaoran nodded. "Does that mean you want to do this . . . more often?"

"Do you?"

If Syaoran's face could've turned redder, it would have. He gulped. "I . . . wouldn't mind that."

Kurogane wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. Syaoran pressed his face into the ninja's shirt, breathing in his unique scent. His arms were warm, comforting.

Yes, Syaoran decided. He definitely wanted to do this more often.


	36. Ignored Confession

Chapter Thirty-Six

The kid relaxed in his arms, pressing his face into his shirt and closing his eyes. Kurogane allowed it, calculating the approximate time he had before the magician and the princess were likely to return. He could afford to wait a few minutes before he had to move.

The kid didn't say much, but when he finally did, his voice was soft. "I'm not ashamed of it, either."

It took him a few seconds to remember the conversation they'd had before all this. Kurogane ran his hand through the kid's hair in silent approval.

"I used to be," Syaoran mumbled. "I thought I was betraying everything I'd fought for. I thought you were pitying me, and that was why you . . . well, not exactly _approved _of what I was doing, but didn't push me so hard to stop."

"Are you talking about before or after I took you to bed?"

Syaoran fidgeted at the casual mention of their first encounter, but answered. "Before. The first time I kissed you. If you'd wanted to, you could've made a much bigger issue of it—"

"I broke your shoulder. I don't think I could've made a bigger issue than that."

"You could've told Fai-san, or Sakura-hime. And that . . . You must've known how much more that would've hurt me. I would've never been able to look them in the eye, if they knew."

Kurogane pulled the boy closer, so the kid could rest his head in the crook of his neck. "You wouldn't have been able to avoid them forever."

"But you didn't tell them." Syaoran exhaled. "You said you'd punched the wall, and that was why there was a dent in the sheetrock. You lied for me."

Kurogane tensed, then relaxed. "Of course I did."

"Why?"

"Because . . ." He frowned, trying to remember the reason. He hadn't wanted the others to know about the boy's indiscretion, but he wasn't sure why. "I just didn't want to tell them."

"That was . . . unusual for you. I was so afraid you were going to tell them then, and I'd . . ." He faltered, and Kurogane ran a hand down his back, trying to reassure him. Now that they were both coming down from the thrill, the atmosphere had shifted. Kurogane wasn't holding him like a lover, he was holding him because seeing the kid suffer was starting to hurt almost as much as suffering himself.

"It's all right."

Syaoran exhaled. "And after that . . . It seemed like every time I tried to make things better, they only got worse. I needed help and you were the only one who did anything about it, and I . . ." His breathing hitched, belying the careful control he'd maintained so far. "I started to . . . want things. I wanted to pretend someone cared."

"I did care. I still do." The words felt stilted and unnatural on his tongue, but they were true.

Syaoran nodded against his neck. "I know. I know that _now_. But back then, I thought I'd caused so much damage that I didn't deserve even that. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd hated me."

A pang shot through his chest, and he found himself pulling the kid closer, trying to surround him as much as possible, to prove things weren't so dismal. "I never hated you."

"I know." But there was relief in his voice, as if he hadn't been sure until Kurogane had said it. As if he truly needed the assurance to know someone cared. "And then you stopped pushing me away, and I didn't care whether it was pity or affection or anything else. I needed you, and you were kind to me. And then, the first time we were _together _. . . You were so gentle. I really believed that you might . . . that you might . . ." His breath trembled.

"That I might what?"

Syaoran composed himself. "I thought that you might . . . love me, just a little."

A jolt of shock coursed through him. _Love? _Kurogane thought, tensing as if he'd walked into an ambush. Even his parents, who had doted on each other more than any other couple Kurogane had met before this journey, had never spoken of their love so directly. Displays of affection just weren't ingrained in his culture. So hearing the boy speak of love, here and now, left him speechless for a few minutes.

Syaoran was quiet, too, sensing a change. He drew back slightly, his expression guarded.

Kurogane shifted, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "Listen," he said. "I do care about you—I wouldn't be here if I didn't. But I don't think this is a good time for this conversation. We've got a lot to think about, and this is all very . . . new." His lips twisted around the word. It sounded so inadequate.

"I understand," Syaoran said quickly. "We don't have to talk about that, then. I don't mind things staying the way they are, right now."

Kurogane glanced over his shoulder. The kid was smiling, but his eyes were tight. Kurogane sighed and leaned in to plant a kiss on Syaoran's lips, as if that would really make things any better between them. "The others will be back soon. Do you want to shower first, or should I?"

The kid's face flushed. "No, go ahead."

Kurogane stood and walked out the door, not even glancing back as he closed it behind him. His heart was pounding harder than it did during battle, and a deep panic that he hadn't felt in years kept drumming across the back of his neck, threatening to rip him apart. He barely managed to turn the bathtub faucet on before he had to sit down.

"_I thought that you might . . . love me, just a little." _The words carved a massive gash in his composure, slicing through his defenses like a blade. How was he supposed to respond to that? The kid had to realize this arrangement wasn't permanent. It was meant to be a crutch for him, until he could stand on his own.

_Of course he knows that, _Kurogane thought, stepping under the showerhead as it let loose a torrent of scalding water. _He's not an idiot. He knows this can never work long-term. So why would he say that? _The ninja tilted his head up, soaking the front of his hair. The percussive tap of water on his forehead soothed the tumultuous thoughts banging around inside his brain.

He tried to reason through it. The boy had been reluctant to bring it up, and he hadn't reacted badly to his abrupt departure. Either he'd been expecting rejection, or he was a much better actor than Kurogane had guessed. Whatever the case, the boy must've understood his reluctance to talk about it, because he hadn't argued when Kurogane had wanted to leave. He _had _to understand, to react so calmly.

Nonetheless, the thoughts continued to plague Kurogane even as he stepped out of the shower. By then, he could sense the mage and the princess wandering about the kitchen, probably getting dinner ready. He dressed in the spare clothes he kept in the bathroom cabinet, dried his hair, then headed out to join them.

* * *

He didn't fail to notice the boy's absence at dinner that night, but it wasn't until the mage said something that he was forced to acknowledge it. "Where did Syaoran-kun go? He usually eats with us."

Kurogane shrugged. "Anyone check his room?"

"We saw him heading to the elevators when we were walking in," Sakura said, eyes never straying from her plate. "We thought you might know where he went."

The note of concern in her voice was enough to distract him from the task at hand. He looked at her, noting the way her head drooped. Dark circles ringed her eyes, the product of restless sleep.

So instead of remarking on the weeks of apathy she'd shown the boy, he said, "The kid can handle himself. He'll be fine."

The table fell silent except for the scrape of utensils over plastic plates. Infinity was versatile in its cutlery, with chopsticks, forks, knives, and the strange, rounded things called "spoons." They each ate with whatever suited them. The princess switched between chopsticks and the other utensils, depending on the meal. The vampire used forks and spoons exclusively.

_The boy would stick to chopsticks, _he thought, lifting a bit of rice to his mouth. _And he'd scoot away from the table, keeping his eyes on his plate and never saying a word._

The train of thought threw him for a minute. Of all the things he observed in his environment, his companions' eating habits should've been one of the least important. Yet his mind had filed the information away, obviously classifying it as something worth remembering. It seemed odd, almost obsessive, to think about it now. He frowned at his plate.

Dinner ended a short while later. Sakura volunteered to do the dishes. Fai waltzed over to help her with them, giving her a rare, genuine smile as she greeted him. Shortly after they finished, they retired to their respective rooms.

Kurogane stayed up, waiting for the kid to come back, pretending to watch TV despite the lack of entertaining material available at this hour(he'd realized, with some irritation, that all the best shows were on at the same time, and only came on once per week, which meant that all he could do in his restless late-night hours was either sleep or catch up on the boring shows).

Behind him, the front door creaked open. His head whipped around, and he saw Syaoran unbuttoning his jacket. The boy's cheeks were bright red from cold, his eyes downcast. He hung his coat with great care, as if its weight would break the coat rack if he wasn't cautious(and in this shitty apartment, perhaps that line of thought was justified).

"Hey," Kurogane said, breaking the silence.

Syaoran looked up, then away. "Good evening."

"You missed dinner."

"Sorry."

"You all right?"

"I'm fine." The boy walked into his bedroom, closed the door, and locked it.

_Tomorrow, _Kurogane thought, sinking into the couch cushions. _Whatever it is,_ _I'll deal with it tomorrow. _


	37. Bitterness, Jealousy, and Hurt

_Author's Notes:_

_More smut over these next two chapters, though we don't get anything_ too _explicit in this chapter_._ Then plot for a while after that._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Waiting for the princess and the mage to leave for their evening walk was torture—what happened when they were gone didn't make it any better.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Kurogane rose from the couch, took a breath, and knocked on the kid's door. He waited a few heartbeats for an answer, then raised his hand to knock again just as the door swung open. The boy looked up at him, eyes unreadable. Awkwardly, Kurogane lowered his hand.

"Yes?" Syaoran asked.

"The mage and the princess just left. They'll be gone for an hour."

A weighted silence lingered between them, and Kurogane wondered if, for once, it would've been better to lie and feign love, just to make the kid smile. _No, _he decided. _Whatever this is, it can't be based on a lie. _He sighed, then rested one hand on the kid's shoulder. "Do we need to talk about last night?" he asked.

"No." The boy stepped forward and pressed his cheek against Kurogane's shirt. His arms coiled around Kurogane's chest, hands coming to rest in the middle of his back. "Just be with me. I can imagine the rest."

Kurogane was not much given to wincing, but he winced then, hearing the hurt in the kid's voice. He wondered if the boy even knew how bitter he sounded.

He pulled Syaoran closer, resting one hand on the back of his head while the other traced the kid's spine. The boy's hold tightened, fingernails digging into his back with a feral desperation that left Kurogane speechless. He hadn't thought much about how his unresponsiveness to the mention of love could've affected the boy. He certainly hadn't expected this level of desperation and bitterness he felt now, as Syaoran pressed against his torso.

Kurogane sighed. "We have a fucked up relationship, don't we?"

Syaoran stiffened, pulling back. His features pinched with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Forget it. It doesn't matter."

The boy frowned, but sank into his arms again. Kurogane lifted him up and shifted so the boy's tailbone was resting against the arm of the couch. Then, light as a moth's wing, he ran his fingertips across the side of Syaoran's neck, waiting for him to shudder and melt where he stood. Instead, he froze, hands falling to his sides. Kurogane drew back, cupping the kid's cheek in his hand. It took him a moment to speak.

"You don't want me, do you?"

"Of course I do," Syaoran said, too quickly.

"What I said last night . . . It hurt you."

The boy shook his head. "I'm fine."

Irritation flared in his chest. He pushed the kid back, so he was lying face-up on the couch, legs folded over the armrest. Kurogane followed him down, bracing his arms against the couch cushions as he positioned himself above Syaoran. With one hand, he tilted the boy's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "It hurt you. It doesn't do any good to pretend otherwise, so just spit it out."

"Does it really matter?"

Kurogane froze, processing the boy's tone. "What do you mean?"

"Does it matter if it hurt me? Your pity won't change anything, so what's the point in making me say it?"

"You think I pity you?"

"Am I wrong?" he asked, and it sounded almost like he was begging for a denial.

Kurogane opened his mouth, then closed it, reining in the fury that always seethed just beneath the surface. He rolled onto his back, nudging the kid into the crease of the couch. "I don't pity you. If I pitied you, it would be the same as looking down on you." That was what he'd always been taught. One could help someone in need without pitying them, but being _pitied _was like being coddled. It was pathetic. It fostered weakness. Kurogane didn't _pity _anyone.

The kid's voice softened in response to his gentler tone. "Then why go to all the trouble?"

He sighed. "If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that some things don't require reasons. I didn't need a reason to serve Princess Tomoyo. Even if she hadn't helped me back then, I would've served her. I also don't need a reason to want to make things easier for you." He rolled over so they were face-to-face. "The only reason I do anything is because I _want _to."

"That sounds . . . freeing."

_And you sound jealous as hell. _"It can be. Sometimes, it's just a pain. What I want isn't the only consideration. If it was, I would already have you pinned on this couch, begging me to slow down."

Alarm and disbelief flickered across Syaoran's face.

"I also have to think about the consequences that go along with getting what I want. And sometimes, I _do _have reasons for doing something other than just wanting to do it. I have responsibilities. I have to maintain my honor, because that's something I want to have intact when I die. But what I _want_, right now, is _you_."

The air between them hummed with electricity, and Kurogane could feel the kid's shallow breaths brushing the line of his lips. More than anything else, he wanted to tilt his head forward and eliminate those few inches of space between them. Just a few weeks ago, he would've questioned his sanity over such an impulse. Now, it seemed as natural as breathing.

Syaoran closed the distance for him, his lips hesitant. The ninja kissed him back, stroking his hand down the length of Syaoran's body. He shuddered in response, moaning. Kurogane skimmed his fingertips across the boy's abdomen, under his shirt, and drew his thumb across the sensitive nipple. Syaoran twitched, and he massaged the stub harder, pressing down and tugging gently. Then, he withdrew his hands and pulled the kid's shirt up, maneuvering it over his arms and head before tossing it to the floor.

Panic shot across the kid's face. He glanced at the front door. "We're doing this _here_?"

Kurogane positioned himself so he was crouching just over the boy's abdomen. "Do you really want to move somewhere else _now_?"

The kid's cheeks turned pink. He looked away. "No. Here is fine," he whispered.

"Good." Kurogane descended on him, pressing his lips to the base of Syaoran's throat, then laying a trail of kisses down his torso. The kid twitched and whimpered under his touch, fidgeting the same way he had the first time Kurogane had taken him to bed.

"Before, you said—" Syaoran began. Before he could finish, the ninja pressed a hand to his lips, muffling the words.

"If this is about last night, I'm going to punch your lights out." _I already told you to say something if it bothered you. _He peeled his hand away from the kid's lips and waited, listening.

"It's not that," Syaoran mumbled, cheeks burning bright red. "Before, you said that if you always got what you wanted, I'd be . . ." He looked away, eyelids squeezing shut. "I'd already be . . ."

"Just spit it out."

Syaoran took a shaky breath, not meeting his eyes. "Do you . . . Do you want to try something new tonight?"

Kurogane froze, suddenly remembering his earlier words. _He can't be serious. There's no way. _"What _exactly _are you asking for?" he demanded.

"Well . . . I was wondering if you wanted to . . . um . . . I'm not sure how to phrase this. Do you want to . . ." He looked up, as if searching for the right word.

"Fuck?" Kurogane suggested. Shock flitted across Syaoran's face, and when Kurogane slipped his hands over his ribs again, his whole body stiffened. "Do you want to?"

"Yes, but . . ."

He drew back, releasing the boy and waiting for an objection. As soon as they separated, the boy wrapped his arms around his torso, his gaze drifting to the floor.

"I . . . Is it okay, if we do? I don't want to trouble you."

Kurogane sat down beside him, closing his eyes. "If it bothered me, I wouldn't have said it. You don't have to be so afraid."

"Okay." He looked up, the lines of his face set with determination. The fire in his eyes barely masked the desperation. He tried to sit up, fingers wrapping around Kurogane's shoulders.

"In that case, let's go back to your room. This could get . . . messy."

"R-right!" Syaoran wriggled out from under him, picking up his shirt on the way to his bedroom. Once inside, Kurogane closed the door and locked it. His elbow brushed against Syaoran's ribs as he turned, and the boy stood up on his tiptoes to crush their lips together. At once, Kurogane leaned forward and pushed him onto the bed, pinning him where he lay. The kid clawed at his arms, blunt fingernails trailing harmlessly over his skin. Annoyed, Kurogane pinned his arms above his head, holding them between the columns of the headboard.

Fear flashed across Syaoran's face, his body going still as Kurogane held his arms awkwardly above his head. This wasn't the careful touch of a first encounter, not anymore. It seemed the boy was just realizing that.

The fear lasted for only a moment before the kid closed his eyes.

Kurogane shifted his grip, freeing one hand to trail his fingers down Syaoran's chest. Under his fingertips, the boy's ribs felt more delicate than a bird's wing. The planes of his chest were awkward, not yet filled out. _What must it be like to be trapped in a body younger than your mind? _Kurogane wondered, hooking his fingers around the kid's waistband and sliding his sweatpants off his hips. The sudden exposure caused Syaoran's body to wriggle with discomfort.

"Stay still," he ordered, meeting Syaoran's gaze. The fear had returned, sharper than before. A spasm jolted through Syaoran's arms, then traveled down the rest of his body. His eyelids squeezed shut, a whimper breaking through his lips.

Kurogane stared at him, still holding him down. Syaoran's body twisted under him, curling up as if to protect himself from an assault.

An all too-familiar surge of guilt washed through him. He released the kid's hands.

Syaoran's eyes flashed open. Even in the darkness, Kurogane could see the shimmering drops of saltwater on his cheek. "Sorry," he whispered, ashamed of himself. "I wasn't thinking." _What's wrong with me? Why do I keep messing up like this?_

Arms freed, the boy nudged his chest. The bedsprings creaked as Kurogane sat up. _Shit. _"I didn't mean to scare you."

The kid's fingers clung to his shirt. The sound of their breathing was loud in the silence.

"No."

Kurogane opened his eyes. The kid's lips were set in a flat line, his hands wrapped tight around the stretchy fabric of his shirt.

"I'm not afraid," Syaoran said, pressing his face against Kurogane's chest. "I agreed to this."

"If you don't want to do it, just say so."

"I want it. I want you. I just panicked for a second, that's all." Their eyes met. "I trust you."

Syaoran's lips found the hollow of his throat. For a moment, Kurogane gave himself over to the sensation, allowing some of the responsibility of this act to slip off his shoulders even as he peeled his own shirt off. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been trying to make this good for the kid, how much he'd made it about Syaoran instead of him. But now, a part of him demanded that affection, craved it the same way he craved the chance to fight. He received the kiss without reservation, knowing the boy didn't expect him to return it.

And he understood, then, why Syaoran always acted so vulnerable around him. _The moment you open yourself up to rejection, you're forsaking your chance to turn back and ignore that person, _he thought._ He's not afraid of me; he's afraid I'll push him away._

Syaoran's lips trailed down his neck, to his collarbone. "Is this okay?" he asked, the skin of their chests sliding together.

Kurogane angled his face down, burying his cheek in the boy's hair. "Yes."

Syaoran tilted his head back so their lips touched. One of them shuddered, but their bodies were so close, Kurogane wasn't sure who. "The others will be gone for at least an hour," Syaoran said. "We have time."

Kurogane captured the boy's face in his hands, regarding him. His eyes were calm, steady. "What we're doing . . . It'll hurt," Kurogane warned, nudging him back so his shoulders rested against the mattress.

"That's fine."

His fingertips traced a pattern on Syaoran's torso, swirling from collarbone, to stomach, to waistline. Slowly, the boy relaxed under his touch, going limp in surrender. Something unspoken passed between them in that moment. Kurogane understood how terrifying it was for the boy to cede control like this, to allow himself to be vulnerable. _And he knows I won't use it against him, _he thought, planting one final kiss on his lips before tugging down on the boy's sweatpants. Syaoran's body gave a startled jerk, then went limp as his eyes glazed over with desire.

"Close your eyes," Kurogane murmured.

Syaoran obeyed. The ninja leaned forward, and together, they sunk into the mattress.


	38. Sorry Doesn't Change Anything

_Author's Note:_

_Smut in this chapter. This will be the last smutty bit for a while, though. The plot picks up after this._

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It felt as if his whole body was afire.

It was a good kind of fire. Cleansing. Comforting. Syaoran basked in the warmth, letting the ninja slide his hands up and down his chest. His touch was so gentle, so at odds with the way he handled everything else, that when Syaoran closed his eyes, he could almost forget who he was with, what he was doing.

It felt good to forget.

As he drifted, he became less aware of _where _he was being touched, and more cognizant of the fact that he _was _being touched. So many hours passed where he ached for human contact. The sudden overload of sensory input left him almost numb with pleasure.

The fire traveled down his belly, then nipped at his thighs before doubling back. He responded to the touch, every hair on his body standing on end under Kurogane's deft hands. The ninja ran his thumb between Syaoran's legs with just enough suggestive pressure to make him moan. Heat radiated from the other man's body and into his, passing through his skin and frying his nervous system. A knot of tension formed in his belly. His breathing sped.

"Easy," Kurogane warned, pressing down. Syaoran forced himself to relax, wondering if the painful part was about to arrive. He could feel his pulse all over his body: in his neck, in his fingertips, in his belly . . . and lower, growing more intense as he drew closer to the edge.

His release was abrupt. A cry tore from his throat, his fingernails digging into the ninja's bicep as he struggled to regain control of his writhing body. He gasped, burning from the inside out. Electricity shot through his whole body, every nerve tingling in its wake.

Kurogane kissed him. Through the storm of pleasure, Syaoran almost missed the way the man's lips trailed down his jaw and neck. Almost.

"Are you ready?" Kurogane asked as he sank into the mattress.

Syaoran's eyelids fluttered. "Huh?"

"For the next part."

_Next part? _he thought, still trembling from the sudden release. _How can there be a next part after _that_? _"Sure . . ."

The ninja knelt above him so their faces were only inches from each other. The red-eyed man ran his fingertips over the sticky splotch on his thighs, then moved down the crease where Syaoran's legs met his pelvis. As a faint glimmer of pleasure shot through his body, Syaoran understood.

_Oh. This is probably what he meant when he said it might hurt. _He tilted his head back, repositioning his legs so his knees were braced against the ninja's hips. "I'm ready."

Kurogane's finger pushed upward, slick with semen. Syaoran's eyes flew open. His body rioted, torn between pain and pleasure. The conflicting feelings froze him for half a second, and then a whimper escaped his throat.

At the sound, Kurogane withdrew his finger and leaned back. The relief was dizzying. "Syaoran?"

"I'm fine," he whispered. "It wasn't so bad."

"We can stop—"

"No! No, I'm fine." He refocused his attention on the ninja's face, and caught the rare look of uncertainty in the slant of his eyebrows. It was the same look the child in Recourt's memory book had worn before collapsing in front of Princess Tomoyo. Shock. Horror. Desolation.

Vulnerability.

_No one can give so much without betraying some of what they're feeling, _Syaoran thought, running his palm across the ninja's scarred hand. _Not even him._

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the older man had been vulnerable once, too.

"I want to be with you," Syaoran said. "Even if it hurts sometimes, I want to be at your side."

The ninja's face softened, but the childlike vulnerability disappeared. Focused now, Kurogane ran his finger through the milky fluid and moved it along the curve of Syaoran's body until it found the puckered opening at the base of his tailbone. Syaoran forced himself to relax, but couldn't keep from gasping as the ninja's finger penetrated deep.

"Easy. Relax."

Syaoran took a breath, commanding his muscles to go limp. It was more difficult than he'd expected; his body tried to reject the foreign presence, his muscles contracting without his permission. Only when Kurogane withdrew and pushed deeper did he manage to hold back his body's reactions. His eyelids squeezed shut, sparks of pleasure streaking across his field of vision like falling stars even as instinct commanded him to resist the discomfort.

Time lost meaning. After a while, his body numbed to the pain. Kurogane kept up a steady rhythm, his finger moving in and out, pressing against clusters of nerves Syaoran hadn't known he'd had. Every so often, Kurogane would withdraw and drag his hand over the translucent liquid sticking to his thighs, then resume his previous rhythm. All the while, Syaoran fought to control the resistance in his own body, tame it so he could enjoy the tiny sparks of pleasure he felt at each touch.

When Kurogane added a second finger, the pain returned. Slow, predictable movements eventually eased his discomfort, allowing the ache to fade to the back of his mind. Eventually, he recovered from his initial climax, and the simple pleasure of being touched intensified, coiling tight in his gut as it had before. "I think . . . I think it's time." He opened his eyes to make sure the ninja understood.

Kurogane nodded and withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the sheets before grabbing Syaoran's shoulder. His spine arched, his hips rolling back as the ninja stripped off his jeans. Up until this moment, the ninja's size had never been intimidating. The act itself, yes—that first encounter had been excruciating in its newness. But now, thinking about the logistics of what they were about to do . . . Syaoran's heart started beating faster.

"Roll over," Kurogane murmured into his ear.

_Oh, god, this is really happening. _Syaoran repositioned himself, pressing his forehead into his pillow as he braced himself for what was coming. He bit his lip, hard, holding back a plea. Surely, there was no way for the ninja to be gentle doing this. It would do him no good to ask.

Kurogane's hands trailed down his back, then swept over his hips and thighs, guiding him into position.

_Why did I bring this up?_ Syaoran wondered. _What's wrong with me? _

"Relax."

Syaoran jumped. Somehow, without making the mattress squeak or disrupting the smooth motion of his hands, Kurogane had leaned forward so their cheeks were almost touching. He pressed his face into his pillow, mortified by the way he flinched at every touch. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I . . . I'm not sure."

"Then don't apologize." Kurogane kissed his neck. "If you want to stop, that's okay. I know this is terrifying for you."

The casual reminder of his fear had Syaoran going limp with relief. _He understands. He understands, and he's willing to allow for it. _"No. I'm fine."

Kurogane's lips traveled from his neck down to the middle of his spine, while his hands wrapped around Syaoran's hips. He closed his eyes, bracing himself.

With one, hard thrust, Kurogane pushed inside him.

The world exploded in black and white, his fingers splaying as far as they would go, then coiling around fistfuls of sheets. The balanced dance of pleasure and pain shattered, agony shooting up his spine and doubling back as he cried out.

Kurogane placed his hands on Syaoran's upper back, holding him down. "Easy. _Easy!_"

Tears pooled in the corners of Syaoran's eyes; he buried his face in the mattress, having batted aside the pillow at some point in the last few seconds. He wouldn't let Kurogane see him cry. Not here. Not because of this.

"Kid?"

Syaoran vowed not to let the ninja see how much that stung. It was fine to be called "kid" or "boy" in front of the others, but when they were alone like this . . . When it wasn't just comfort being offered, but intimacy, the reminder of his inexperience was like a physical blow. "Keep going," he said through gritted teeth. "Please."

Kurogane froze for a moment, then rocked forward, penetrating deeper. Syaoran pressed his face into the sheets, smothering the cries building at the back of his throat. He'd endure this in silence, no matter how much it hurt. Just so long as it was over _soon._

In and out. Syaoran reminded himself to breathe, fighting the dizzying pain that came with every thrust. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as the ninja lifted one hand to grasp his erection. He moaned, tiny sparks of pleasure clearing away the worst of the pain. The combination sizzled his nerves so that, when he finally climaxed, all he could do was close his eyes and ride it out, almost numb to the pleasure. An instant later, hot fluid filled his body, burning him up from the inside, as if he'd been pumped full of boiling water.

Kurogane withdrew. Syaoran's body went rigid again at the sudden void, and he slumped onto the mattress, breathing hard, not daring to raise his head in case the tears started flowing. Several seconds passed as he lay there, limp.

"You're hurt." The words were soft, apologetic.

"I'm fine."

"Syaoran."

He froze, heart fluttering. "Yeah?"

"You're hurt," Kurogane said again.

Syaoran looked away. "You said it would hurt. I'm fine."

The ninja wrapped his arms around his body and rolled, so Syaoran's back was pressed against the man's chest. They laid like that for several minutes, both of them breathing hard. Somehow, being held made it better. Kurogane's arms were warm, comforting. And if he pretended, in that moment, that the ninja loved him, that was at least easier than the alternative.

Finally, Syaoran spoke. "Why did you start calling me by name?"

"Because that's what you do when you're with someone this way."

"But . . . if you don't love me . . . if this is just physical . . ."

"It's not _just _physical." Kurogane pressed his face into the back of Syaoran's head, his breath raising hairs on his neck. The words repeated in his mind, echoing the imagined love he'd daydreamed of a moment ago. "It's about intimacy. When we're alone, I'll call you by name."

Syaoran closed his eyes, still too sore to move. He'd wanted to believe that, on some level, someone loved him, yet the assurance of intimacy seemed so inadequate, as if it could be taken away at any moment, just like everything else had been, after he'd turned back time. But he couldn't very well say that _now_, so instead, he said, "I appreciate that."

Kurogane released him and sat up, gathering his clothes from the floor. His voice softened, growing regretful. "I wanted this to be good for you. I'm sorry it hurt."

"Don't be sorry," Syaoran murmured, knowing the ninja would say the exact same thing to him, had their positions been reversed. "Sorry doesn't change anything."


	39. Insights

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Kurogane sat at the edge of the bed, already dressed, waiting for the kid to say something else. The boy had pulled the sheets over himself, shielding his body from the chill in the air, and his eyes drooped, close to sleep. Yet Kurogane could detect the quickened cadence of his breath, the tightness to his features. Still in pain.

With a sigh, Kurogane brushed his knuckles along the boy's neck. As he turned his head, a pair of dull brown eyes met his gaze, and he had to repress a wince at the glazed look he saw there. It was as if tonight's encounter had drained all the life out of the boy, as if it had had the opposite effect it should have. As if he had never wanted it in the first place.

"This was never about sex, was it?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, unstoppable as a runaway train.

There was no shock in the kid's eyes, no denial. The boy looked away, taking a deep breath. "You offered."

"But that wasn't what you needed."

The boy hesitated, then shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Is that why you wanted to know why I called you by name?" _Because you wanted me to love you? Because you needed that confirmation?_

Syaoran shrugged under the blankets, his face unchanging. "Does it really matter?"

"Did you ask because you were hoping I'd changed my mind? Were you hoping I'd say that I loved you?" The words felt awkward on his tongue and sounded bitter coming out of his mouth.

"No." Syaoran looked away, took a breath, and spoke with more confidence. "No. I knew nothing had changed. And things are fine the way they are."

"Are they?"

Syaoran lifted his head, hearing the challenge in his words. Kurogane waited, wondering what he'd do, what he'd say. Instead, a silence fell between them, and the kid rolled onto his side, away from him.

_So there's something wrong, but he's not willing to say it. _He sighed, then started heading to the door. "When you're ready to say something, I'm ready to listen. But you'd better speak up soon."

He walked into the living room, closing the door behind him. After a moment, he went to the kitchen and pulled one of the liquor bottles from the shelf. _Damn it, _he thought, nearly shattering the bottle as he slammed it onto the coffee table. _Damn it all._

They'd cut it close. Three shots after he sat down, Fai and Sakura returned from their walk, shattering any chance that the boy would come out of his room to chat. Kurogane sighed and set his glass aside. "Welcome back," he grumbled, more because the greeting was expected than the fact that he was actually happy to see them. A brittle smile curved up the princess's lips, and the vampire gave him his usual ghost of a grin.

"Are we drinking tonight, Kurogane?" Fai asked, eyeing the liquor bottle on the table.

"Have some if you want it." He sat back, pouring himself another shot. "I don't care."

Fai took a seat beside him, shot glass in hand. "Ah, you brought out the good stuff."

He shrugged; he hadn't really looked at the bottle when he'd picked it off the shelf. While Infinity's written language was similar to his own, the curly script on the label was completely unreadable. Besides, it didn't matter what he drank: alcohol was alcohol.

"Mokona will have some, too," the white creature announced, hopping onto his lap. He threw the pork bun a withering look, but said nothing, only tilting his head back to drink.

The mage was unusually quiet, even more so after Sakura retreated into her room. Kurogane sighed and picked up Souhi. "You haven't eaten in a while," he said, knowing the wizard would understand the implications of his words.

Fai looked up, and Kurogane caught the frown on his face. When the vampire looked at him, it shifted into a smile that emanated falseness the same way his shot glass emanated the scent of alcohol. "I suppose I've had a lot on my mind."

Mokona hopped off the couch and headed toward Sakura's room, playing with the doorknob until the door opened.

"That's a change," Kurogane muttered, running Souhi's blade over his skin, then holding it under the vampire's nose. Fai's smile faltered. "Drink."

"I suppose next you're going to say that it's going to bleed whether I drink or not, huh?"

"I'll only say it if you keep evading me like this."

Any trace of the false smile vanished while he spoke. Fai's long fingers wrapped around his arm, claws extending in an instinctive reaction to the scent of blood. "You truly are cruel, sometimes."

Fai lowered his lips to the cut, but Kurogane could barely think of the discomfort as the blond man's words echoed in his mind. For the first time in weeks, the deceitful edge had been absent from Fai's voice. And considering his words, Kurogane almost wished he was lying again.

_Cruel. _That was what it always came down to. Princess Tomoyo had sent him away for being merciless, and now the kid was pushing him away, too. Yet, he'd never been deliberately cruel. Ruthless, yes. But not cruel.

_Maybe I've been going about everything the wrong way, _he thought. _Maybe there was some other way to work this. _

Fai pulled away. Kurogane blinked, startled by the sudden coldness on his arm. As always, the vampire had licked away all the excess blood, leaving the skin around the cut eerily pale. It would heal much faster than a normal cut, though whether that was magic or some aspect of vampire physiology meant to preserve their prey, he wasn't sure. He pulled away and wiped the little dab of blood off his sword before putting it back in its sheath. He'd expected Fai to leave, as he usually did right after a meal, but the blond stayed at his side, staring at the table as if contemplating something.

"What is it?" Kurogane finally asked, hoping to jar the magician out of his silence.

Fai glanced toward Syaoran's door, still not smiling. "I was just thinking . . . Syaoran-kun seems quite withdrawn lately."

He arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" _At least he's coming to dinner now, instead of starving himself in his room all day._

"He doesn't talk to us. It's like he's afraid to say anything, or he doesn't know what to say. I think . . . perhaps I've been too distant, and that's why he won't talk to me. But I can't help but be worried."

Kurogane nodded. Making connections with the rest of the group would be healthy for the boy, and perhaps he'd find that he didn't need an emotional crutch anymore. Wouldn't need _him _anymore. "If you're worried about being too distant, then talk to him."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," he growled. _I might as well be the _only _one who talks to him._

"How often?"

"Pretty much every day, when you two are gone." _Now, _he forced himself to be careful. They were treading in dangerous waters here, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about his current predicament.

Fai picked up his empty glass and poured another shot for himself. Reminded that the bottle was still sitting, neglected, on the coffee table, Kurogane leaned forward and did the same. "Do you remember how the liquor bottles suddenly started disappearing for a while, about a month ago?" Fai asked.

"Yeah. What of it?" He'd assumed Fai had been the one drinking them—thin though he was, the man could hold his alcohol—but if that was the case, it seemed odd that he was bringing it up now, weeks after the fact.

"I had a talk with Syaoran about that. He didn't outright admit it, but it was pretty obvious that he'd been drinking."

Kurogane frowned, unsettled. It hadn't occurred to him, a month ago, that the kid would develop an alcohol addiction. Sure, an occasional night of drinking, that didn't surprise him. But he was pretty sure the mage wouldn't bring it up if that had been it. "Is he still drinking heavily?"

"No, I don't think so. I talked to him, and he stopped. But . . . It's worrisome, don't you think? That he wouldn't even tell us about it?"

Kurogane shrugged. "Might've been too ashamed to admit to that." _Among other things. _

"But the thing is . . . When I brought it up, he looked almost _relieved_."

He fidgeted in his seat.

"I just . . . I'm worried that there's something else going on here. Something he's not telling us. And I think he'd have a much easier time talking to you than me."

Kurogane leaned against the back of the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh to mask the relief flooding his body. _That could've ended badly, _he thought. "You're just shoving this off on me because you don't want to talk to him."

The fact that Fai didn't immediately snap back to his usual, hollow cheer proved how serious he was. "No. I'm doing it because I think he needs help, and I don't know how to help him."

"Fine, then. Go shopping with the princess. I'll talk to him while you're gone. And stop buying sugar. No one needs six packages of sugar in their apartment."

For the first time in weeks, the mage gave him a genuine smile. "Great. I'll take Sakura out tomorrow so you two can talk."

_Yeah, _he thought, reaching for the liquor bottle. _And now I have to think of something to say to the kid. _


	40. Brutal Honesty

_Author's Notes:_

_So, I've had a miserable week so far. Have I mentioned how much I detest Homecoming and its related activities? Just today, I've received two hours worth the homework, stayed at my school for almost twelve hours straight, endured a miserable three hours playing in a marching band that no longer cares about sound quality or performance value, and, to top it all off, my mom is spending another night in the hospital as she recovers from surgery, which means the only people to whom I can rant about my awful day are mostly-anonymous readers like you. So . . . yeah. Hence the ranting. But anyway, I'm done talking now, so enjoy the chapter, and special thanks to anyone who chooses to review or has reviewed previously._

* * *

Chapter Forty

"All right, we're going!" Fai called from the doorway, waving like an idiot.

"Just go," Kurogane said, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, the stress of the upcoming hour settling on his shoulders like a physical weight. He'd thought all night about what he was going to say—the mage was right about one thing: the kid needed help. More than that, he needed help from someone _else_, someone who was better at offering comfort than he was. And more than _anything_, the kid needed to start talking to the others of his own free will, before the rift in their group widened any further.

Kurogane hated it when Fai was right.

So when the front door clicked shut, he waited, hoping the kid would appear, make this seem less confrontational. _Or maybe I _should _confront him. I'm much better at confrontations than conversations. _

He sighed. When the boy didn't abandon his room after five minutes, Kurogane rose from the couch and walked over to the door. "Kid? You in there?" _Well of course he's in there. Where else would he be? _He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. _Why do I have to do this? Why can't the mage talk to him if he's that fucking worried? _

But he knew the answer to that, knew Syaoran would never be completely honest with anyone but him. Not now.

The door swung open, and Syaoran peered out, clinging to the wood like a timid child. "Yes?"

"Come on out. We need to talk."

Uncertainty flickered across the boy's face. Only with great reluctance did he step out of his room. "Am I in trouble?"

"No. We just need to talk. Sit down." He went over to the couch, expecting the boy to follow him. When he heard no footsteps behind him, he stopped and turned. "What?"

"Is this about what you and Fai-san discussed last night?"

He leaned back, eyebrows flying into his hairline. "You heard that?"

"I eavesdropped. Sorry."

Kurogane sighed and sat down. "There's more to it than that." At least, that's what he'd decided, after processing his conversation with Fai. There were deeper issues than what the others saw on the surface. "I'm not the only one who cares about you, here."

The kid winced but said nothing.

"If you were listening," he went on, with some bitterness. "then you should know it's time to start reaching out to someone besides me. I can't take care of you forever."

This time, the kid's reaction was more pronounced. A jolt shot through his entire body, and his shoulders curled inward, as if he was trying to protect himself from the words. Kurogane repeated the last bit in his mind, trying to hear it from the boy's perspective. It _had _sounded rather cold, but it wasn't as if he could maintain this level of care forever. Eventually, the kid had to learn to stand on his own.

So why did it feel like some beast had raked its claws across his stomach, allowing the acid inside to burn through him?

He shoved his discomfort aside. "Listen. You may not think so, but the mage and the princess _will _talk to you if you make an effort."

"I eat with the rest of you for every meal. I go to all the chess matches. If it was that easy, things would've already worked themselves out. But it's not. I know the others resent me for what happened in Tokyo—"

"I told you already: none of that was your fault."

"But that doesn't change anything!" Syaoran shot to his feet, his face animated for the first time since last night. "They look at me, and they can't help but see the similarities. They grieve for my clone, but when they look at _me_, it just reminds them of his betrayal. And how could I blame them for feeling that way? If I was in either of their places, I'd probably feel the same." He turned toward Kurogane, his fists tight at his side. "So far, you're the only one who treats me like a person. Everyone else just looks at me like I'm a ghost, or a copy. Do you really think just _talking _to them is going to fix that?"

"No, I don't." Kurogane stood, advancing. The boy stayed where he was, shoulders tense, face pinched with anguish. Kurogane lifted a hand and brushed it along the edge of Syaoran's jaw, as gently as he could. "But that's what I expect of you."

The kid closed his eyes and lifted his hand so it brushed against the ninja's knuckles. Then, like peeling away a bandage, he pulled both their hands from his face and let them rest between their bodies. "You really want that?"

"Yes."

Syaoran swallowed thickly. "Okay. I'll try harder."

Kurogane nodded, trying to fight the lump rising in his throat. _This is a good thing, _he told himself, inhaling to get ready for the next part. "There's one more thing we have to talk about."

"What is it?"

"You said you were eavesdropping, before, so you know the mage is worried there's something else going on here. Something besides your week of alcoholism."

Confusion danced in his eyes. "There's not."

_He doesn't see it, _Kurogane realized. _He doesn't think of what we're doing as a crutch. _He braced himself. This was going to be much harder than he'd anticipated. "There is something going on. This." He squeezed Syaoran's hand tighter, emphasizing his point. Surprise flickered across the boy's face, and his eyes dropped to their joined hands.

And then shot back to his face as realization hit. "_No_."

"The mage will be watching for signs of a deeper issue. We can't do this anymore." _Not ever. Not if you want to be able to stand on your own. _"Listen, kid . . ."

The boy flinched as if he'd been slapped. "I thought you were going to call me by name when we were alone."

"Just listen, all right? This has to stop. It's not making things better for anyone."

"I thought you wanted it."

_I do. _He bit back the words; they'd only make it harder for the kid to let him go. "You love the princess, don't you? You should be trying to improve things with her."

"It's more complicated than that."

"I don't _care_! I'm not giving you the option. We tried this. It's not working."

"You can't . . ." The boy faltered, releasing his hand and stepping away. "Why isn't it working? You said you weren't ashamed of it, so what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that you don't love me, and I don't love you."

A flurry of emotions shot across Syaoran's face: shock, pain, anger, hurt, sorrow, confusion. His lips framed words, but no sound came out. His eyes shimmered with tears, but none escaped. When his features had finally settled into a blank, hollow mask, he collapsed in on himself, shoulders curling inward, head down, spine curving. Finally, a word escaped his lips. "Oh."

"Sorry," Kurogane said, because he _was _sorry. Sorry that he'd had to put it so bluntly, sorry he'd gotten the kid's hopes up, sorry he hadn't stopped this sooner. Most of all, he was sorry that, after everything that had happened between them, he couldn't say those three precious words, not even in a lie.

Syaoran lifted his head, eyes bloodshot, expression tight with self-control. "I understand. You're right. This was a mistake."

That last bit stabbed at him like a knife to the gut, but he said nothing, letting the boy turn away and walk to his room. Numb, Kurogane sat down on the couch and stared at a cigarette burn on the coffee table. His temples throbbed with every heartbeat.

He pretended not to hear the muffled sobs coming from the next room. He pretended nothing was amiss when the kid walked into the living room twenty minutes later and announced that he was going to the library to return his overdue books. When the others returned, he pretended to watch the news.

"How did it go?" Fai asked as soon as Sakura retreated to her room.

Kurogane stared resolutely at the screen. "Fine. He went to the library."

The vampire frowned. "So . . . that's it? Nothing was going on?"

"No." _Not anymore. _"Nothing."

In his peripheral vision, he saw Fai frown. "That's . . . good. Right? That nothing's going on."

"Yeah," he said, because he wasn't sure he could give a more detailed reply without the words sounding false. After all, Fai had told plenty of lies since they'd met—he'd know when he heard one.


	41. Forced Friendship

Chapter Forty-one.

_Kurogane-san was right, _he told himself, sliding the books over the sensor as he turned them in. The librarian hovered over him, lips pursed as she tallied up the late fees. When she gave him a number, he pulled a wad of cash from his back pocket and handed her the appropriate amount. "You always return your books late," she said. He blinked, surprised she'd remembered him at all, much less been able to recall such an insignificant detail.

"I'm sorry."

"You always return them, though. Some people don't, and we spend weeks making phone calls, trying to track down the thieves. I'd rather have _you _bringing them back late rather than lose out on another disappearing guest."

He looked up at her, feeling the faintest echo of pride. It actually sounded as if she wanted him to keep coming back, despite his lack of punctuality. "Thanks."

The librarian shrugged. "As it happens, I'm impressed you can read that many books between trips. _And _you use bookmarks, instead of just folding the pages."

He nodded. One of Fujitaka's pet peeves had been finding dog-eared pages in a borrowed book. He'd learned that back in Clow, when . . . _No. I guess that wasn't _me_, was it?_

"If something's troubling you . . ." the librarian said, her voice softening. His head snapped up, and he blushed, realizing he'd just been standing here, staring off into the distance. "There are self-help books over that way." She pointed to several shelves in the non-fiction section. "They might help you get through whatever's bothering you."

"Thanks, but things are . . . complicated." He supposed that was an accurate summation. He was pretty sure being in love with the original version of the clone living in his apartment while longing for the gentle touch of someone else's calloused hands on his body qualified as "complicated." Of course, there were some stronger descriptions that jumped to mind, but none of those seemed appropriate for polite conversation.

"Life is complicated. That's why people write books to help you get through it." The librarian smiled. He smiled back. Despite the chapped lips and papery quality of her skin, the librarian actually had a very nice smile. Warming. _Like Sakura, _he thought, his momentary contentment fading. _Or Kurogane, when he smiles for real. _

He blinked, then pretended that thought hadn't just passed through his mind. "Thanks. I'll look through those." He hurried away from the counter, searching for someplace he could hide from the world while he silently fell apart inside. Ever since his conversation with Kurogane this afternoon, everything had felt off-kilter, as if the world had shifted half a degree beneath his feet, making everything lopsided. He hadn't realized how reliant he'd been on the ninja. Yet for weeks, Kurogane had been like a splint, holding him together so he wouldn't break all over again.

Even Syaoran could admit that wasn't healthy.

_I should've realized that sooner, _he thought, clutching the left side of his shirt. _Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much now. _He took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. The shelves of books stood like barricades around him, but this was still a public place. Odds were someone would notice him here and wonder why he was hunched over. _They'll think something's wrong with me. They might even want me to tell them about it. _Forcing his hands to fall to his side, he straightened out, staring at the shelves of self-help books. When he tried to read the titles on the spines, his vision blurred. _I can't do this anymore. I can't rely on another person to hold me up. It was my choice to follow this path, so I have no right to feel this way. And besides, my Sakura is still waiting out there, somewhere. If I can just find her, everything will be all right. _

Syaoran pulled books from the shelf at random, assembling a small pile before heading to the cluster of chairs set up in the corner of the library. He sat down in a padded armchair, facing the wall. His position gave him the illusion of privacy, despite the quiet shuffle of other readers moving between shelves. _And nothing else matters, as long as the illusion is there, _he thought bitterly, remembering how he'd tried to imagine having Kurogane love him, as they'd lain in bed together. That illusion, at least, was better than the harsh reality.

" _. . . you don't love me and I don't love you."_

* * *

"I don't think the kid knows _how _to talk to you," Kurogane said, setting down the shot glass he'd taken out two hours ago. Mid-afternoon was early to drink, but he didn't plan on going anywhere, and as long as he didn't get too shit-faced, the alcohol would help him through this conversation. "I don't think he can, on his own."

The vampire glanced at him, then back to the cracked cement at their feet. "I wish now that I'd made more of an effort to make him feel welcome here. I never meant to make him shy away like this."

_Well, that's your own damn fault, isn't it? _Scowling, he poured another shot. "Then do something about it now. There's no point in worrying about the past." Which was something he'd been drilling into the mage since they'd met. A lesson that evidently hadn't sunk in, given the fact that Fai evaded the obvious question in his statement.

"What does this Syaoran like?"

_Being held, _he thought. _Being touched on the side of the neck. Being kissed on the collarbone. Being loved. _"Well for one, he'd like it if you'd drop the 'this Syaoran' bullshit and just called him by name."

Fai winced. "Ah. I didn't realize I was even adding that. But what does he like to _do_? Reading is sort of a solitary activity, and I'm not sure sparring is such a good idea. He takes after you, in some ways, so he might get annoyed with the way I fight." A hopeful smile crossed his lips, but faded quickly when Kurogane said nothing. "I know none of what's happened is Syaoran-kun's fault, but I'm still getting used to the fact that he's not . . . the other one."

"The clone. They're not the same person, so don't just assume they are. It's not going to benefit anyone to connect them by their similarities." He tilted his head back, downing the shot he'd poured a moment ago. The liquor burned down his throat, more concentrated than the stuff in most of the worlds they'd traveled through. He remembered Syaoran saying something, once, about how he'd wanted to be different from his clone. _After the first time he tried to kiss me, _he remembered with a twinge of guilt.

"I don't know how to talk to him. We've barely spoken since Tokyo."

"Yeah, no shit. None of us talk anymore. You talk to the princess, and I talk to the boy, but that's it."

"Technically speaking, we're talking right now."

Kurogane rolled his eyes. "I almost wish we weren't."

Fai smiled, and it was even more nauseatingly fake than his usual smiles. "That's a little cruel, even for you, Kurogane."

"And _that's _a little cold, _especially _for you, mage."

The false grin widened. "I have no idea what you mean, Kurogane."

_Bullshit. _Annoyed, he poured the last of the bottle into his shot glass and lifted it to his lips. He was about to tell the mage to figure it out for himself when he heard the front door swing open.

"I'm back," the boy said, voice barely audible.

Fai turned around and rested his chin atop the back of the couch. "Welcome back, Syaoran-kun. Did you find anything good at the library?"

Kurogane half-turned, watching the boy, hoping he'd at least make an effort to return the mage's enthusiasm, however lackluster it was. But when he turned, their eyes met, just for a fraction of a second, and something inside him snapped, like a cable stretched to breaking point. He looked away, shifting uncomfortably on the cushions.

Because there had been no grief in Syaoran's eyes. No indication of anything beyond the cool politeness he'd erected as a shield.

"Some historical texts, a couple novels that looked interesting. I'll be busy for a few days, reading through everything, but they're not due back for two weeks, so I have time."

"Great. Then I'll have time to teach you how to bake."

_Baking? Seriously? _

"Teach me to . . . bake?" Syaoran asked, echoing his thoughts.

Fai nodded emphatically. "Yes. Cookies and cakes and stuff like that. Sakura-chan and I picked up a bunch of baking supplies when we went shopping. What do you say?"

The boy hesitated, as if searching for some sort of cue. Kurogane kept his back turned, waiting. "That sounds great," Syaoran said. "When do you want to start?"

"How about tomorrow? We can bake _un gateau chocolat._"

"Sounds . . . interesting."

"Well, technically speaking, it's just chocolate cake. But better to start with the basics, right?" Fai sounded disgustingly enthusiastic about the sugary atrocity he was devising. _I'll probably have to eat some, _Kurogane thought, grasping at the distraction.

Irritation was a lot easier to deal with than the strange ache in his throat.


	42. Baking: Lesson One

Chapter Forty-Two

"Now sift three tablespoons of cocoa powder onto the paper," Fai instructed, looming over the wax paper with a container full of brown powder. Syaoran picked up the sifter they'd used for the flour and started pouring the substance into the top.

"Is this the same measuring system you use in your world?"

"Nope," Fai said cheerfully. "But I'm not sure you'd understand that system—it's actually quite complicated. We have to use it for making potions, so the measurements are very precise."

"Oh." He turned his head back to the sifted cocoa powder, surprised; Fai seldom revealed things about his home world, though when he did, it was just that sort of irrelevant information. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd shared this same tidbit with Sakura. They'd baked together in Outo, after all.

He sighed, hating himself for the pang of jealousy he felt at their close relationship. It was so easy for them—even now, in these dark months, Fai and Sakura got along.

"Syaoran-kun, you're brooding."

"I am?" He blinked, then glanced around as if that would somehow confirm whether or not he had, in fact, been brooding.

"If you're worried about something, it's all right to talk about it." Fai measured out a bit of baking powder with one of the measuring spoons, then held it over the bowl and pinched it between his fingers, getting rid of lumps before sprinkling it into the mix. "That might help you work out a solution."

Syaoran shrugged. "I'm not really worried about anything specific."

Fai pulled a glass measuring cup from the cupboard and opened the fridge. "So it's a more general sense of worry?"

"I guess." He watched as Fai set a gallon of milk on the countertop, beside the measuring cup.

"We need half a cup of this, according to the recipe." Fai nudged the measuring cup and milk closer to him, and Syaoran dutifully stepped forward to pour. "Worried about where we're going after this world?"

"A little. But actually, I'm more worried about what's going on now." He frowned, bending at the knees so he could see the lines on the measuring cup better. _Perfect,_ he thought, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"What's going on now?" Fai asked quietly. The question plunged him into the recent chaos, the hurt he'd felt when Kurogane had finally rejected him, how it had been so ridiculously hard to keep from crying. _To think I can survive monsters and magic, but I'm breaking over something so insignificant. _

But it didn't _feel_ insignificant. His connection to Kurogane had been like an anchor holding him in place in the middle of a tempest. Now it felt as if the chain connecting him to that anchor had broken, leaving him adrift in choppy waters.

That wasn't exactly the sort of conversation he wanted to have with Fai. "Nothing specific," he lied. "I mean . . . Things have been tense lately, and understandably so."

Fai watched him for a long moment. Syaoran could feel the skepticism radiating out from him. After about thirty seconds, Fai turned back to the ingredients and wiped the glass measuring cup clean with a wet rag. Without a word, he poured the correct amount of oil into the cup and transferred it to the bowl. "Things _have _been rough, but I think we'd all like it if you came out of your room sometimes."

Syaoran swallowed. Kurogane had suggested almost exactly the same thing, numerous times, but he'd never really believed it until now. Suddenly, he felt horrible for distancing himself so much. _I wasn't making anything better. I was just prolonging the most painful part. _"I'll keep that in mind."

Fai smiled brightly and went over to another cupboard. "Great. Now let's mix this."

The noise of the mixer made having a conversation impossible, which allowed him to go away inside without having Fai accuse him of brooding. In fact, the only words between them were Fai's instructions on how to mix properly, which Syaoran could follow despite being lost in his own thoughts.

It was all so mundane—standing here, making cake, as if everything was right in the world. Wearing an apron covered in flour and other miscellaneous ingredients, he was the picture of domesticity. Yet he felt exposed. Kurogane had left earlier that afternoon, ostensibly to get a better bearing on their surroundings, but in his absence, it felt as if something was missing from the apartment. Syaoran kept expecting to hear sarcastic complaints about the noise or the cloying scent of cake batter—all remarks equal parts serious and teasing. The absence made the air thick, as tense as it might've been if Fai wasn't pretending to be on friendly terms with him.

_The act is better than nothing, _he thought, as Fai told him to stop the mixer. Syaoran pulled the still-spinning blades from the chocolate goop and let them fling the excess batter along the sides of the bowl before he turned the mixer off.

"Let's get this into the pan," Fai said, maneuvering around him and pulling a metal baking pan from the cupboard at his feet. Then he grabbed a can of baking grease and sprayed it across the inner surface of the pan. "That should do it. Here, Syaoran-kun. I'll hold this. You pour the batter."

Syaoran nodded, refocusing on the task at hand and picking up the batter. The viscous mass slid out of the bowl and spread out across the bottom of the pan until it touched the sides. He ended up having to get a spatula to scrape the remaining batter from the bottom of the bowl, but from the way Fai was smiling, he was pleased with the result. "Good. Now we put it in the oven for twenty-five minutes, and then, if it passes the test, it'll be done!" He clapped in excitement, then slid the pan into the oven.

_This is the happiest I've seen him in weeks, _Syaoran thought, fighting another twinge of guilt. _Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't hate me for what happened in Tokyo. _"What's the test?"

"Hmm? Oh, you have to stick a fork in the cake, and if the fork comes out clean, it's done."

"Does that work for all baked goods?"

Fai shrugged. "No. But for this particular cake, it works."

Syaoran looked at the oven, contemplating that.

"Anyway, once it's done, we'll let it cool, put some frosting on it, and then _everybody _can have some while it's still warm."

_But Kurogane's not here, _he wanted to say. _And there's no way this is good enough to give to Sakura. _

"Syaoran-kun?"

He looked up. "Yes?"

Fai sighed and rested a hand atop his head, tousling his hair with such casual affection that all he could do was stand there, frozen. "Don't take too much responsibility onto your shoulders. Sometimes it's better to just relax and let things happen the way they want to happen."

_If I wanted to relax, I would be alone right now, reading. _He sighed. "It's hard to relax here. This world is . . ." He searched for a word to define the bustling city, the brutal fights, the overall state of disrepair. Even "chaotic" didn't quite fit because, while all those issues were prevalent, they were all in the background. _No, it's more like this world is off-balance. Like everything is just a little bit wrong._

"I know what you mean," Fai assured him, when he didn't finish his sentence. "But let's not worry about that. It's time to make frosting."

"Frosting?" he echoed.

"_Oui. La glaçage_."

Syaoran cocked his head to the side, wondering if Mokona had somehow stopped functioning as a translator. Fai laughed, then tried to stifle the sound with his hand. "Sorry. I took a lot of language classes back in Ceres. Mokona probably realized I wasn't speaking in my usual language and didn't try to translate that. But yes, we're making frosting."

_I didn't realize Mokona could selectively translate. I wonder if that could be useful, later on. _

Fai assembled frosting ingredients from the cupboard while Syaoran picked out a bowl. "Now, Syaoran-kun, making frosting is a difficult art. You have to adjust and readjust, and you _never _add as much liquid as you think you need—trust me."

Syaoran nodded, noting the regal tone with which Fai gave this advice. He wasn't entirely sure if Fai was aware of it, or if it was something he did unconsciously while baking, like lapsing into a different language.

Together, they assembled a lump of ingredients—milk, vanilla, butter, salt, and enough powdered sugar to make him want to gag—at the bottom of the plastic bowl. After that, Fai handed him a spoon and commanded him to stir the mass until it came out looking like frosting(which seemed odd, considering the mix was almost entirely powdered sugar). Surprisingly, after a while, the tiny amount of liquid spread through the sugar and made it smooth, buttery.

"Perfect," Fai said, leaning over the bowl with a look of pride. "You're really good at this."

Heat rushed to his cheeks at the compliment. Yet he couldn't help but feel that the words were lacking some vital component, some subtle inflection that would've made it sound genuine. _He's humoring me, _Syaoran realized, still stirring._ He wants to make this work, but he doesn't know how to act around me. _

Not for the first time, Syaoran found himself wishing Kurogane was at his side instead. The ninja would never be caught dead trying to bake, of course, but most of the time, it was easy to be around him. _He understands that I'm not an exact replica of the Other. He knows that I need different things to cope. _His eyes flickered to Fai, who was peering through the tinted oven window as he examined their cake. There were still thirteen minutes on the timer.

_Fai doesn't understand me. He's trying too hard to treat me like he treated the Other. _"Fai-san . . ."

The magician glanced up, frowning at his tone. "What's wrong?"

_Just say it. _He took a deep breath. "I'm not the Syaoran you knew before. You don't have to try so hard to make me happy."

The frown deepened. Fai's eyebrows furrowed. "We could try something besides baking."

"It's not the baking." He exhaled, trying to think of a tactful way to say that Fai's attempts to right things were so transparently forced that it was painful to watch. Nothing occurred to him, and he leaned up against the fridge. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I think it's going to take time for things to get better. We've all been through a lot. Before we do anything else, we have to set that aside."

A small, sad smile curved up Fai's lips. "You want to forget Tokyo, too, don't you?"

He shrugged, not wanting to admit that he wanted to forget everything else that had gone along with it. "We probably won't ever be able to forget Tokyo. Or if we could, the price would be too high. But I want to let it go, if there's any way to do that."

Fai looked at him. "Some things are hard to let go of."

"Yeah. I know." _But maybe, in this world, we'll have enough time to let go anyway. _


	43. Souffles Always End in Disaster

Chapter Forty-Three

"This is delicious!" Sakura squeaked, the words muffled by the spoonful of cake in her mouth. Her eyes darted to him, revealing a glint of joy that had been absent for far too long. "You made this?"

Syaoran nodded, trying to smile back despite the ache in his chest. It had been so long since he'd seen this Sakura smile at him, and now the expression left him feeling like he'd just been injected full of endorphins. His heart sped, and his breath came quicker. More than anything, he wished he'd started this journey with her, instead of coming in at such an inopportune time.

And then guilt rushed through him because _this _Sakura wasn't the one he'd fallen in love with so many years ago. This Sakura would never love him back, would never stop hurting when she looked at him because he'd always remind her of the Other.

He looked down at his slice of cake, an empty chasm opening up inside his chest.

"Yep," Fai said, still acting unnaturally cheerful despite Syaoran's assurance that it was unnecessary for him to try so hard. "I'm going to teach Syaoran-kun everything I know about baking."

_Oh, god, _he thought, horror slamming into his gut. _How am I supposed to deal with that every day? _

And then the guilt was back. Again. It worked in cycles, really. He'd think something that he knew to be wrong, then spend several seconds feeling horrible about it, even though he hadn't acted on the thought.

Across the table, Kurogane stared at the piece of cake in front of him, poking at it with the fork Fai had set on his plate. Syaoran watched surreptitiously, not even tasting his own slice as he shoveled it into his mouth. When Kurogane finally lifted a forkful of cake to his mouth, Syaoran froze, stomach churning as he awaited the verdict.

"Not bad," Kurogane finally said, lowering his fork.

His shoulders slumped in relief, heart decelerating to a normal pace. _This can't be healthy, _he thought, stabbing his fork into the slice of cake. _There's no way I'm this desperate for approval. _

They ate in silence, but for the first time since he'd joined the others in Tokyo, their meeting lacked hostility. It was all very cordial, very normal.

It made him bleed inside.

* * *

The next five days only exacerbated the ache in Syaoran's heart.

He and Fai spent hours together every day, baking whatever the magician wanted. Cookies, cakes, muffins, fudge. On the fifth day, they attempted to make soufflés. The pastries(Syaoran was fairly certain soufflés were considered pastries, though they were more treacherous than anything they'd attempted previously) came out either burnt beyond recognition, or goopy in the middle. Fai continually assured him that the soufflé was a difficult dish even for skilled chefs to create, and that they were merely practicing, in case of emergency(and what emergency Fai had in mind, Syaoran had _no _idea). Despite their failed attempts at soufflé-making, the apartment was soon overflowing with sugary treats that neither he nor Kurogane had any interest in eating.

"Fai-san, maybe we should stop this."

Biting into one of yesterday's blueberry muffins, Fai made a sound of surprise. He swallowed. "Stop what?"

"Well, everything's going to go stale if we keep baking stuff, so . . ."

Fai looked at him for a long moment, muffin pressed against his mouth. His lips turned down at the corner, and Syaoran braced himself, the guilt already rushing through him in response to the expression. Then, unexpectedly, Fai smiled and set the muffin aside. "Sure. What else do you want to do?"

He blinked. "You're not upset?"

"Why would I be upset?"

"Well . . . You like to bake, don't you?"

"Yes. I used to bake a lot in Ceres." His expression darkened for a fraction of a second, then his smile returned, softer than before. "Syaoran-kun, I wanted to try baking because it fosters cooperation and produces something positive." He lifted up his muffin in evidence. "Mostly, I wanted to show you that . . ." He trailed off.

"Show me what?"

"I wanted to show you that things don't have to be so bad between us. That we could be friends."

Syaoran looked away, shame clogging his throat. "Oh."

"But there are plenty of other things we could be doing. Like shopping!" His face brightened, and he rose from the kitchen chair. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

_I should be better at this kind of thing by now, _he thought, standing. _And Kurogane wants me to make an effort at this. _His eyes flitted to the middle bedroom, where the ninja slept every night. The room was empty now, Kurogane having headed out to explore the city. Again. Syaoran suspected the ninja had timed his departure just so he'd have to spend extra time alone with Fai.

"Sure," Syaoran murmured. "Let's go shopping."

"Great!" Fai cheered, either not noticing Syaoran's lack of enthusiasm or choosing to ignore it. The vampire donned the fluffy white coat he'd been wearing when he'd first arrived at Yuuko's shop. Syaoran wore the coat he'd bought months ago, when he'd nearly fallen into oncoming traffic. _I would've died if Kurogane hadn't been there, _he thought, not for the first time. _And he's not around to save me if something happens this time._

He shook off the thought. Infinity was dangerous, but not _that _dangerous. And he still had Fai with him; even now, he trusted the magician's ability to react to danger. _Still, _he thought, stepping out of the apartment and locking the door behind him. _We should be careful. _

They headed upstairs in what passed for companionable silence, then headed out the doors, into the cold. Infinity evidently experienced longer winters, as they'd been here nearly three months now and Spring hadn't arrived. But the air outside was nice today. Crisp, but not bitingly cold. They walked for several minutes before Fai spoke. "Where do you want to go?"

_Home. To Clow. Anywhere but this world. _"Maybe a bookstore?"

"All right." Fai picked up the pace, leading him across the bustling street even as cars honked and edged around them. "I know just the place. Sakura-chan and I pass it every time we go shopping."

Trailing several feet behind Fai, Syaoran knew the older man couldn't have possibly seen his wince; yet Fai glanced back, a flicker of sadness crossing his face, as if he'd felt an echo of that ache for himself.

They walked a couple blocks, quite the distance in this city, and ended up at a bookshop nestled between two towering restaurants. With wind chimes hanging outside the door and stars painted on the windows, it looked like part of a fairytale. The subtle joy the place exuded was so incongruous next to the dingy sidewalks and the overflowing trash bins that it was as if he'd stepped into another world. And, despite the present company, Syaoran felt some of the weight slide off his shoulders. This place was nice, safe.

_I've been here before, _he realized, startled. The shelves had been rearranged, and the decorations switched from festive silver tinsel to its current fairytale look, but he remembered visiting this place with Kurogane after he'd purchased his coat. A lot of things had changed that day. _And now most of them had changed back, _he thought miserably. He paused, looking at the rows of bookshelves, trying to call back the joy he'd felt the first time he'd been here. At the very least, he should've been excited about the possibility of acquiring new books to add to Mokona's seemingly endless storage space. But the air tasted stale, rife with dust instead of the scent of fresh paper, and rather than giving relief from the cold, the warm room felt stifling.

He glanced at Fai, trying to hide his disappointment. The magician smiled. "Relax, Syaoran-kun. Have some fun."

"Okay," he said, as if relaxing was a chore to be endured. He knew he wasn't being fair to Fai. The man was only trying to make him happy, however futile that was. Syaoran knew he should at least _try _to act cheerful. He hurried toward the rows of bookshelves, hoping his haste conveyed excitement instead of a desire to escape.

Syaoran paged through several books, not really caring about their contents. One of them was a how-to book on rebuilding a car engine, but it took him almost two minutes to realize that because he was so distracted. He shelved the manual, then headed down another aisle, hoping to lose Fai long enough to get some decent reading in. This bookstore was massive; surely he could find someplace where he could read, undisturbed, until enough time had passed to justify heading back so he could lock himself in his room again.

He hung out in the paranormal fiction section for a while, finding a lot of poorly-written young adult novels about vampires and werewolves. When Fai wandered over to him, he set those books aside and headed to the science fiction section. These actually held his attention for a bit, until the technical jargon overwhelmed him and forced him to abandon these shelves. He migrated to the back of the store, frustrated when he found himself cornered among shelves of romance novels. _Why can't I get away? _he wondered, massaging his temples to relieve the pulsing ache there. _Why can't Fai just leave me alone? _

Then he turned and saw the glowing red sign that proclaimed an exit. His eyes fixed on the letters until they jumbled together, hope warring with guilt. He couldn't just _leave_, but . . .

_I could take a break. I could go outside and just be alone for a little while. _Breathing hard, he set aside the book he'd been pretending to read and nudged the metal door open, sliding through the narrow gap and letting the door close behind him. It took him a moment to realize there was no handle on this side of the door, meaning there was no way back through unless someone opened it from the other side. _I'll have to go around the building when I want to get back in._

Sighing, Syaoran strolled down the alley, maneuvering around trashcans and other debris. Rodents scurried between the bins, squeaking. A rat the size of a football darted out in front of him, and he froze, startled. As he stood paralyzed, several people paused on the sidewalk beyond the alley and looked at him, exchanging whispers. Syaoran glanced up, some preternatural instinct pushing him into a fighting stance before he even recognized the figures.

He heard a woman's laughter, and that sense of danger sharpened to outright certainty. "Well, well, well . . ." she murmured, as the red-haired man at her side stepped into the alley. "Never thought we'd see you around here after that black eye Roret gave you."

Syaoran's fists tightened as his mind jumped back to his first encounter with this bunch. They'd come after him once, when he'd been alone, heading back from the library. Syaoran actually remembered the way Kurogane had tended to his injuries when he'd come back better than he remembered his encounter with these rogues. But now that he recognized them, a spear of dread shot through his stomach. _I'm alone this time, too, _he thought, glancing at the one-way door behind him. _And now I'm cornered._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I always intended to bring these OCs back as a plot point, but I didn't think it would take this long. So anyway, if you don't remember them, they were featured at the end of chapter seven and in chapter eight. They're going to be very important over the next few chapters, so pay close attention. _


	44. Welcome to the Playroom

Chapter Forty-Four

"I don't want to fight you," Syaoran said, glancing between each member of the trio. He remembered the red-haired man best—he'd done most of the talking during their first encounter, before he'd tried to knock Syaoran out with a wrench. There was nothing in his hands this time. _I might stand a chance this time._

"Funny," the woman remarked, tilting her head back. "You said that last time we met, too, and look how that turned out."

Syaoran said nothing, waiting for one of them to strike.

"Y'know," the redhead said, smirking. "We didn't appreciate being shown up by a kid. Whaddya say? Ready for a rematch?"

"I _don't _want to fight you."

The three advanced several steps, moving in tandem. Though the redhead—_Jet, _Syaoran remembered suddenly. _His name was Jet_—was unarmed, the broad-shouldered man behind him was carrying a metal pipe, possibly the same one he'd had during the first attack. "Oh, but _we _want to fight _you_," Jet said, pushing his spectacles up his nose so they rested in front of his eyes.

Syaoran retreated another step, wondering if Fai would hear him if he started banging on the door behind him. It seemed hideously ironic that he'd fled Fai out of petty frustration and ended up running into these monsters.

"What will you do, Jet?" the woman asked. "Are you going to kill him, or do we get to play with him first?"

He chuckled. "Let's see how long he lives."

_Oh god, _Syaoran thought. _I have to get out of here. _

Jet's fist shot forward. Syaoran ducked, spinning around and throwing a kick toward his abdomen. The thin man twirled, his back pressing against the wall as he evaded the attack. Syaoran darted forward, knocking over a trash can as he charged the stocky man, Roret. He was cornered, true, but if he could just manage to get past the two men, he could find his way back to the front of the bookstore and get Fai.

Spindly fingers wrapped around his upper arm, yanking him back. He reached forward, fingernails scraping over the gritty brick wall in a futile attempt to anchor himself to something solid. He succeeded only in bending back his nails.

The rubber sole of Jet's shoe slammed into the back of his knee. Agony shattered through the joint, and Syaoran pitched forward, stunned. His uninjured knee hit the cement. The impact shredded the cloth of his pants and scraped his kneecap. Blood smeared the concrete.

"Too slow," the woman said, hanging back. A mad grin split her face. "Come on, little boy. Your chess team is already a legend. Don't tell me that was just dumb luck."

_This is about the chess tournament? Seriously? _His stomach churned, and he lurched forward, trying to free himself from Jet's grip. In the chess games, it was an illegal hold. Here, it was shockingly effective. _These people weren't built for competitive fighting, _he thought. _They could cripple someone for life, if they got a hold of them like this. _His struggles intensified as the bald man with the pipe lumbered over to him.

"Not too hard, Roret," the woman said. "I want to play with this one."

"You got it." He gripped the pipe with both hands, getting ready to strike. Syaoran lurched to the side, trying to get out of range. When Roret swung, the pipe grazed his temple. Pain flared above his eye, and he dimly remembered his first encounter with these rogues, when Jet had given him a black eye.

_At least I'm not unconscious, _he thought, still struggling vainly against Jet's grip. And then the pipe came down a second time, and even that tiny reassurance evaporated as the haze of blackness overtook his mind.

* * *

_Something's not right, _Fai thought, head whipping around as he surveyed the empty rows between bookshelves. He'd passed this way three times already, searching for Syaoran, yet he hadn't caught sight of the boy, nor could he hear the familiar rhythm of his steps.

For all the times Kurogane had called him an idiot, Fai was smart enough to know something had gone wrong.

He retraced his steps. Syaoran had been out of his sight for a minute at most. It would've taken longer than that just to get back to the front of the store, and Fai could see the painted glass doors from where he stood. He would've noticed if Syaoran had tried to leave without him.

Yet with each pass, Fai grew more certain that his charge had slipped away unnoticed. Bookstores were Syaoran's natural habitat, after all—he'd know how to navigate them better than Fai could. _Is it my fault? _Fai wondered, moving through the labyrinth of science-fiction novels._ Did I do something to upset him? _

This part of the store was barren, lifeless except for a withered fern in an orange pot. Fai kept walking, tapping on his vampire senses as he searched for a nearby heartbeat, or the whisper of someone flipping a page. Any indication that Syaoran was somewhere nearby. But he found nothing.

"Excuse me, sir," someone said as he passed once again through the empty romance section. He turned to see a young girl with cocoa-colored hair and glasses. "Are you looking for a certain book?"

"No." He paused, then started speaking rapidly. "I'm looking for a boy. My cousin. He's got short brown hair, brown eyes. He's about this tall." He held his out hand, approximating Syaoran's height. "I lost him about five minutes ago. Have you seen him?"

Surprise flickered across the girl's face, but she pointed toward a slate gray door near the romance section. "He went out that door a few minutes ago. He wasn't carrying any books, so I didn't think to stop him."

_He left? He actually _left_? _Fai stared at the girl, then whipped around, dropping the picture book he'd found as he pushed through the steel door and came out into a narrow passage framed by brick walls. Papers skittered across the concrete like fleeing rodents, and several rats darted into the shadows at his arrival. His throat tightened in dismay as he realized that, if Syaoran had ever gone this way at all, he'd already disappeared.

_Kurogane is going to kill me._

A strangled laugh escaped his throat at the thought, part humor, and part gut-wrenching terror. _Yes. He'll remind you how this is all your fault and that you were supposed to be watching Syaoran, and _then _he'll kill you. _He took a shaky breath, leaning against the brick wall in an effort to control the panic churning inside him. When that proved pointless, he staggered further into the alley, cognizant only of the fact that if he didn't find Syaoran, there would be hell to pay.

And then he smelled it. A scent like copper, but stronger, laced with salt and other smells. He sniffed, feeling his fingernails grow longer as the familiar scent registered with him. When he tracked it to its source, something fractured inside him.

A glistening patch of blood marred the bricks of the bookstore's exterior wall. When he drew close, the scent hit him like a bus. Yes, definitely blood. And it was fresh.

* * *

The side of his head throbbed.

Syaoran was aware of the pain, despite not being able to figure out where the rest of his body was. Really, he wasn't sure where _he _was, or why it was so cold except for the white-hot point of pain somewhere in his head.

_Am I dreaming? _he wondered. _Or dead? Maybe I'm dead. _He frowned, wondering if Fujitaka had been right about there being an afterlife. It wasn't something he'd considered much, himself. Until Fei Wang Reed had manipulated and imprisoned him, he'd had little occasion to muse about what happened after death, and since then, he hadn't had _time _to worry about it.

He tried to open his eyes. One eyelid fluttered with minimal effort, but the other stayed shut, too swollen to move. The throbbing above his eye intensified. _Why is it always the eyes that get injured? Is it just bad luck, or are they just the most vulnerable? _He groaned, his good eye blinking(winking?) as he tried to take in his surroundings. Everything around him looked gray, and for a moment, he thought his vision had gone strange. Then he saw a smear of red on the cement floor and leaned forward to examine it. Jingling chains held him in place, and his good eye widened as he pulled against the restraints.

Everything jumped into clarity as the last moments before he'd fallen unconscious flashed through his mind. He started frantically yanking at the shackles, a whimper rising to his throat as the ache in his head sharpened.

"Oh good, you're awake."

His head snapped up, and he fought the accompanying wash of dizziness. The speaker stepped into the room, her high heels clicking over the cement like the second hand of a clock. When the spots stopped swarming in front of his eyes, he looked up to see the blonde woman who'd goaded Jet and Roret into attacking him. _"Do we get to play with him first?" _she'd asked, back in the alleyway.

Syaoran shivered. "Where am I?"

"My basement. Weren't you paying attention?" She crouched down in front of him, and he writhed. The woman snorted and rested her index finger on his forehead. "Don't bother. Those chains are high-quality. They've held much bigger men than you."

_Then I'm not the first person they've brought down here. _He leaned back, shifting his arms. He could feel them now, though it felt as if someone had buried dozens on needles in his skin. He wondered how long he'd been unconscious, if his arms were already numb from the restraints. "Why did you bring me here?" he asked, stalling.

The woman's lips quirked at one side, giving her an impish smile, as if this was all just a prank. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. "Why? Don't you know?" She leaned close, whispering in his ear. "Because I like to play. And when my toys break, I need new ones."

He tensed up, trying to put some distance between them, but she just leaned in closer, invading his personal space. Her fingertip brushed the line of his jaw, raising bumps over his skin.

"I'm Cassie," she said. "Welcome to the playroom."


	45. Nerves

_Author's Notes:_

_I figured I should give you guys fair warning for the next few chapters, so here goes: there will be torture. A lot of torture. And it will be explicit(not sexually explicit, but explicit in the way that you might cringe from your computer screen as you read it). But it's important to the plot, so you should probably read it anyway. And besides, torturing Syaoran is fun._

_Side note: I am not a sociopath._

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five

_The playroom. _His heart started pounding, making the bruise on his head throb. He shifted, the movement pulling at the chains wrapped around his arms and wrists.

"Oh, don't look so fidgety," Cassie said, rising from her crouch and walking across the room to a metal table. There, she picked up a hairbrush and put her hair into a ponytail. "You really ought to be glad I'm down here and not Jet. He can get so rough with people he doesn't like." She half-turned, her milky skin seeming to glow under the fluorescents. Steel shrieked against steel as she drew something across the metal table, and he winced, head aching. "Don't like that?" Cassie asked, scraping whatever it was over the table again.

Syaoran groaned, hand twitching toward the bruise on his head before catching on the chains. He looked down, frustrated. _She's right. I'm not going to be able to get out of these on my own. I have to trick them somehow. _His good eye rolled back up to her face. "I have to go to the bathroom," he told her.

"Don't lie to me, Syaoran."

He flinched at his name.

"I told you I've done this before. Do you think I'm so naïve? If you really have to go, I'll get you a bucket."

He lurched forward, fury surging through his veins, then grunted when the movement yanked on his arms. Then he sat back, surprised at himself. He'd never been prone to angry outbursts. Sure, the situation wasn't looking good, but Kurogane or Fai would track him here somehow, or they'd call Yuuko and she'd tell them he was here. _As long as they can pay the price for that. _

"You shouldn't do this," he said, hoping to keep the woman talking, to avoid whatever she had in mind as long as possible. "My friends will come here."

"You're not about to tell me I'll never get away with this, are you? Because I hate clichés."

He glared at her.

"Hmm. You're a quiet one." She turned away and picked something up from the desk before walking toward him. "It makes me wonder what your screams will sound like."

He clamped his mouth shut, resolving not to scream. Judging by her smirk, she was confident she'd be able to make him. "You know," she said, crouching next to him. "there are nerve endings under your fingernails. Sensitive ones. Not surprising really—if you'd ever broken a nail, you'd know."

He said nothing.

She sighed. "Well, I think a demonstration will be much more effective than an explanation. Kids learn from experience, after all." She brought one hand forward to reveal the pliers she'd brought over from the desk. With deft hands, she unlocked one of the shackles holding his right arm in place, maneuvering his hand until it was within grasping distance. His arm twitched as he tried to strike, but the rest of the chains held firm. _There's more than one anchor point, _he realized, terror sliding down his spine like ice water. He looked at the blonde woman, suddenly anxious.

"Hold still. Trust me, you don't want to make this any harder on yourself."

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

She rolled her eyes and brought the pliers closer to his fingertips. Syaoran pulled away, the chains going slack. Cassie snatched his wrist and used her leverage to hold him in position. "This will sting, but don't move, all right?"

"You're sick."

"Actually, I just got over a cold, so I'm not sick anymore." The tips of the pliers closed around the fingernail on his index finger, and Syaoran braced himself. _I won't scream. I won't scream. I won't—_

She ripped his nail off, shredding the vulnerable flesh underneath. His body jerked, coiling into a ball as he buried his face in his knees. Those hurt, too, probably from when Jet had kicked them during their confrontation. But the worst pain, worse even than his head injury, radiated up his arm and wracked his body like a lightning bolt. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn't scream, didn't even whimper. If anything, his throat was too tight for him to get a scream out.

"Huh," the woman said, surprised. "They usually start screaming after that. I suppose we'll have to keep going."

Syaoran writhed against the restraints, hiding his arm behind his back so she couldn't reach his hand. A moment later, the pliers jabbed at his ribs, like a bird's beak. He flinched, straining against the chains.

"Hold your hand out, please," Cassie said, in the same silky voice she'd used to command her friends in the alley. He shook his head, and her voice turned dark. "Fine then. I'll take your eye instead." She moved the pliers to his swollen eyelid and prodded at the bruise. A soft whimper escaped his throat as she tried to pry his eyelid open with her thumb. As it slid open, he thrust his arm out in offering. She giggled. "Smart move, Syaoran. You're such a quick study."

"So I've been told," he muttered as the pliers closed around another nail. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Kurogane stared at the television screen, flipping through the channels as he searched for something less depressing than the evening news. The white pork bun sat on his shoulder, poking the side of his neck. The ninja ignored the irritant, determined to find a decent channel among the five-hundred options. But somewhere around channel three-hundred-fifty, the constant poking became too much. He batted the white creature away with one hand. "What are you doing _that _for?"

The thing bounced against the cement floor, as if it was filled with air. Which, Kurogane thought, was entirely possible, given that it was also full of miscellaneous weapons, food, traveling supplies, and clothes. "Kurogane was sad, so Mokona wanted to cheer him up."

"I'm not _sad_."

The creature's smile faltered, and its ears flattened against its back. Kurogane felt a twinge of guilt, then buried it behind his irritation. "What makes you think I'd be sad?"

"Mokona can tell when someone's sad. It's one of Mokona's one-hundred-and-eight special techniques."

He snorted. "I've had a lot on my mind. Don't worry about it."

"Mokona thinks Kurogane should talk about it. Mokona also worries because Kurogane hasn't lost his temper for a long time."

He looked away, not saying anything. Because the last few times he'd lost his temper, he'd been alone with the boy, and he couldn't exactly explain everything that had happened between them to the white pork bun. The creature was an incorrigible gossip. _And wouldn't you say something, if the kid was with someone else? _he thought to himself. _Wouldn't you assume the worst? _

He sighed and rested one hand atop the white creature's head. "There's nothing much to talk about. This place is depressing. That's all."

The pork bun shook its head. "Mokona thinks there's something else."

"There's _nothing _else," he snapped, picking the thing up by the ears and dropping it onto the floor. This time, rather than pushing the issue, the creature hopped around the living room and plopped down on the opposite side of the couch, not saying a word. The apartment fell silent except for the garbled mumbles of the actors on TV.

Ten minutes later, the front door flew open, hitting the wall as it swung wide. Kurogane jumped to his feet, grabbing Souhi from where she sat at the edge of the couch. The magician stood in the doorway, eyes wide, skin pale as rice paper. "Did Syaoran-kun come back here?"

_Come back? _he thought, alarmed. "He's not _with _you?"

Fai shook his head. "I lost him."

"Lost—how do you lose a _person_?"

The wizard said nothing, striding over to the kid's bedroom and flinging the door open, as if he really believed he'd made it to his bedroom unnoticed. When the room proved empty, he turned back to Kurogane. "We were in the bookstore. I walked away for _thirty seconds_, and he disappeared."

Kurogane slammed his fist against the wall. "It's a bookstore. How hard could it possibly be to—"

"I _know_, but when I finally figured out where he went . . ." He trailed off as Kurogane caught the significance of the words. Because if Fai knew where the kid had gone, but hadn't found him, that could only mean something bad had happened.

"Mage," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "Where is he?"

"I don't know exactly. I know he headed out through one of the bookstore's back doors, into the alley. I tried to track his scent, but I don't know how—I lost it as soon as I hit the sidewalk. He could be anywhere in the city."

Kurogane groaned and slammed his fist into the wall a second time. The sheetrock buckled around his knuckles. "Damn it!"

"That's not all."

He turned toward the mage and grabbed him by the front of the shirt. Shock crossed the man's face, and his single remaining eye went wide. "What else?" he demanded, gripping Fai's shirt so tightly, he could hear the fibers shredding apart.

Fai closed his eyes, as if searching for his resolve. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, broken. "I also found blood. Syaoran's blood, in the alley outside the bookstore."

The words struck him like a punch to the gut. He released the mage's collar and turned away, holding onto the edge of the couch to stabilize himself. _No, _he thought. _Not the kid. I can't lose the kid. _

"Kurogane . . . What are we going to do?"

He released the couch and stalked over to the coat rack, forcing his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. "What do you think we're going to do, idiot? We're going to find him." He opened the door and lifted his head to glare at the vampire. "If you think you can manage that."

Fai grimaced, but said nothing as they walked out the door.


	46. Burning Blade

Chapter Forty-Six

Syaoran leaned against the sheetrock, taking deep breaths as if that would dispel the lingering ache in his body. Sweat dripped down his neck and back, making his hair stick to his face.

All the fingernails on his right hand had been ripped out. Blood had crusted over his fingertips in their place.

"You're holding up much better than I expected," Cassie said, plucking a hammer from her work bench and weighing it in her hand. Syaoran watched, stomach churning, but a moment later, she set the hammer down and picked up a pocketknife instead.

He wasn't quite sure which tool he'd rather deal with. He supposed lacerations wouldn't take as long to heal, but that knife looked _sharp_.

"Why are doing this?"

"They always ask that. Or scream it. I'm doing it because it's _fun_."

"But there must be some reason you brought _me _here."

Cassie cocked her head to the side, then turned to look at him. "You think you're special?"

"I think there must be a reason you picked me. There had to be easier targets."

Her black eyes hardened as her smirk grew more pronounced. "Fine. I did it because you're our competition in the chess matches, and any advantage I can give my team over yours is in my favor."

_She's doing this for the tournament? _he thought, slumping. "We'll withdraw from the chess matches. That'll get us out of your way. I can make the others agree to it." At least he hoped so. Kurogane would agree to it. Fai probably would, since he'd been trying so hard to make things normal lately. He wasn't sure about Sakura, though—she'd insisted on attending as many matches as possible, while they were here. _And if anyone could sway Fai, it'd be her._

He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. Sure, this Sakura seldom spoke to him, but she was still Sakura. If her choice was between letting him suffer and withdrawing from the chess matches, surely . . . _Surely she'd help me. Of course she would. _

"So noble of you," Cassie said, holding the pocketknife up to the light, then walking over to the fireplace. There, she sat down and added some kindling to the hearth, before pulling a bottle of lighter fluid from the windowsill and spraying it across the logs.

_Fai will be here soon, _he told himself. _Or he'll have gone back to the apartment to find Kurogane. I'll be fine. _

Cassie pulled a matchbook from her pocket, struck one of the matches, and tossed the burning stick into the hearth. Orange flames licked up at the brick, bright from the lighter fluid. She stared into the flames for several seconds, then placed the pocketknife at the edge, so the blade rested over the hot coals.

"You don't have to do this," Syaoran said. "Really, you don't. And you don't want to. My friends—" His tongue tripped over the word, and it took him a moment to collect himself. "My friends will find me. They'll kill you over this."

"Unless your friends have bloodhounds, I doubt that." Cassie walked over to the table and put on a pair of gardening gloves. Syaoran watched as she went back over to the hearth and pulled the pocketknife away from the coals. The blade glowed orange.

_Oh. The gloves were to protect her hands from the heat. Of course. _He took a deep breath, trying not to wince as her high heels clicked toward him.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding the knife so it rested an inch above his collarbone. "Are you going to scream now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?"

He set his jaw and closed his eyes. _The others are coming. Even if Fai and Sakura aren't looking, Kurogane will. He has to._

The heat intensified, the blade just barely skimming across his skin.

_Kurogane _has _to come. He has to. He'd look for me. _

The tip of the knife buried itself in his flesh, and he heard the sizzle of skin burning as the woman dragged it through him. He sucked in a shocked breath, biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. She drew the knife along the line of his collarbone, and the point of pain spread, a deep, stinging agony pulsing through his chest. His fingers coiled, the scabs on his fingertips digging into his palm. But he didn't scream.

The knife lifted away from his skin, and he exhaled, shoulders slumping.

"I'm impressed," Cassie said. Her hand snaked up, dragging the still-hot knife across his cheek so he bled. He grunted, startled. Everything else, she'd warned him of. Taunted him, even, with how much control she'd had. But this attack came out of nowhere, and it took him a few seconds to regain his bearings. "Still no screams. What is it about you?"

"I have something I need to do."

"Like a job?"

"I have to set right what once went wrong," he said, hoping his cryptic answer would get her to talk so she would be too distracted to cut him up. Instead, her lips slipped into a frown, and she slapped him across the bruised side of his face.

"I told you I didn't like clichés."

"Don't you think the psychopath torturing their victim in their basement is a little clichéd?"

She slapped him again, this time on the other side of his face. The impact made the wound on his cheek throb, and he hung his head, not sure which side of his face hurt more. "I also don't like smartasses, unless they're my friends."

_Well this isn't going as I'd hoped_.

Cassie stood and started for the hearth again. She set the pocketknife on the bricks, then procured several larger knives from her desk on the other side of the room. Syaoran studied the growing collection with unease. There were curved blades and serrated ones, and he couldn't help but think the characteristics didn't matter so much—it was the hot metal that would hurt most.

"How long was I unconscious before I woke up here?" he asked, hoping she'd answer so he'd have a reasonable estimate of how long it had been.

"About an hour. You must've been tired. Most of my toys don't sleep so long."

_Then it must've been at least an hour and a half since they caught me. Which means Fai has almost certainly gone back to the apartment and talked to Kurogane. They'll be on their way. They'll think of something._

"Why? You got a doctor's appointment or something?"

"Chess match," he lied.

"Too bad. Your team will get disqualified when you don't show."

"I'm betting on them showing up. And if you're smart, you'll get out of here before they do."

"Threats and manipulation. Not what I expected from the stoic boy I saw in the dome. Is that whole reluctant warrior bit a façade?"

He raised his chin half an inch, eyebrows slanting downward. "No. I don't enjoy fighting. But there's something I have to do, and I'm going to fight for it, no matter what."

"God, you are just a model of heroism." She pulled a glowing knife from the fireplace and strolled over to him. Several strands of wheat colored hair had escaped her ponytail, and they tickled his chest as she crouched over him. She'd stripped off his shirt before he'd woken up, leaving him exposed, vulnerable. "Is that what this whole stoic prisoner act is about? Do you really think anyone else will care whether you scream until your throat bleeds?" She pressed the flat of the glowing blade against his abdomen, and he grit his teeth, shoulders pressing against the sheetrock in an effort to get as far from her as possible. A smoky stench filled the air, and he coughed, not realizing until she pulled the knife away that the smell was that of his skin shriveling with heat. "Do you?"

"I won't scream," he hissed through his teeth.

"Yeah, definitely a hero complex. You got a princess waiting for you in a tower? Have lots of magical adventures with your friends? Explore foreign territories and overthrow cruel regimes?"

"Something like that." _Much closer than anyone would ever believe. _

"I've heard the line between hero and villain is a fine one. What makes you so sure I'm the bad guy and you're the hero?"

"Well generally, it's the villain who locks the hero up and tortures them for fun. At least in the books _I've_ read."

The woman smiled and pulled his arm from behind his back, unfastening the locks anchoring it in place. After having half his fingernails ripped off, Syaoran had come to realize that the only way to get out of these restraints was to have someone else take them off. Since Cassie obviously wasn't going to do it, he planned to wait until one of her friends came to replace her. Or until one of his own friends burst down the door.

"You're a fun little toy." She picked up the long, narrow knife she'd used on him a moment ago and rested the tip over the back of his hand. "It'll be a shame to see you break."

She brought the knife down, driving a hole through his hand.

Syaoran screamed.


	47. Desperation

Chapter Forty-Seven

Kurogane wasn't an idiot; he knew how to tell time.

Granted, he didn't _need _a clock. The stars crept across the sky in an unfamiliar but steady pattern, and his biological clock kept control of less specific milestones. His stomach snarled. He ignored the ache, the seconds slipping away so fast, yet moving so slowly, as if he was walking through water. But he'd learned how to read a clock, and when he found one hanging from a street lamp, it felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Two A.M. They'd been searching for almost eight hours, the vampire trying to catch Syaoran's scent, or his magic signature, or whatever the hell else they could use to track the kid.

"Mage."

Fai looked up from the payphone, his expression grim. "Sakura says he hasn't come back yet." He turned back to the machine, murmured a quick goodbye to the princess, and hung up.

"Let's keep looking," Kurogane said. Fai nodded, and started down the sidewalk again, eyes yellowing as he peered down the alleyways. They'd searched the area around the bookstore first, looking for signs of a struggle, but the only evidence of the kid's passage was the smear of blood in the alley right beside the bookstore, and as the hours passed, their chances of finding him nearby dwindled.

But now, with the wind howling through the empty streets, Kurogane could help but think their chances of finding him at all were slipping away. "Do you sense anything?"

"No," Fai said, wincing. Belatedly, Kurogane realized just how loud his voice must've sounded to the vampire's enhanced hearing. Most of the time, Fai operated on a human level, but as soon as the claws came out, he transformed from an equal to a predator. His hearing was as sharp as a demon's. "I'd have to be closer to sense his magic, if he's not using it. And until we cross his path, I won't be able to follow his scent."

Kurogane turned and slammed his fist into the nearest wall, his other hand trembling. The kid was too responsible to just run off, and the blood Fai had found suggested a darker explanation. So whatever had happened in the eight hours since he'd vanished, it wasn't good.

They reached the street corner. Fai paused, looking to him for direction. Kurogane tilted his head to the side, and they took a right, following the sidewalk. He could see the red neon sign of a tavern a block away, still burning bright despite the late hour. He'd been using that bar as a reference point, to avoid searching the same street more than once. Once they reached the end of this block, he'd have to find a new landmark.

Their pace was quick, but not so hasty that they were likely to miss something. Still, the fact that Fai was doing most of the actual searching irked him. Kurogane's senses were sharp, but still bound by human limitations. Fai was the one scanning every shadowed crevice for signs of the boy.

It made him feel useless.

"You can say it, you know," Fai said.

His head snapped up. "Say what?"

"That this is my fault. That I shouldn't have let him out of my sight."

He ran a palm through his hair, frustrated. "Do we really need to have this conversation? Are you that much of an idiot?"

Fai's shoulders slumped; he said nothing.

Kurogane sighed. "Fine, then. I'm pissed you let him out of your sight. But he's an adult, at least by experience; he can make his own choices. And when we _do _find him, I'm going to knock his lights out."

Fai's lips parted. Then he looked away, stepping up his pace and looking down a shadowed alley. When he spoke, his voice was almost inaudible. "What if we don't find him?"

Kurogane stopped. Turned. Grabbed Fai by the collar of his shirt and yanked on it so they were face to face. "Don't. Don't even say it."

A shadow crossed Fai's face. "You have to acknowledge the possibility. Things aren't going to work out just because we want them to. Syaoran-kun could be—"

"_Shut up_," he snarled, shoving Fai's chest so the man staggered backwards for several steps before hitting the brick wall of the nearest building. "He's _fine._"

Fai stared at him for a long moment, then started walking again, this time moving faster than Kurogane could follow. The blond paused at the next street corner, and Kurogane ran to catch up. "What the hell are you running off for?" he demanded, catching his breath.

"You should go back to the apartment."

"Like _hell_—"

"Listen!" Fai snapped, and the venom in his voice was so unexpected, Kurogane actually paused. "I can run faster, see farther, hear better. I can cover more ground in a shorter period of time than you can."

"So?"

"Go back to the apartment. Get some sleep. You're no good to him if you're exhausted."

"I'm not going to leave him out there, and I'm definitely not going back to the apartment to catch a nap while someone could be hurting him."

Something changed in Fai's face. Something indefinable in the set of his mouth, and the look in his eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Let's keep looking."

* * *

It felt as if someone had taken cold water and poured it over his chest.

Syaoran fidgeted in his chains, trying to drive the numbness from his arms. The tingling had ceased except for the occasional prickle when he shifted. That sensation plagued him now, burning through his arms as if a hundred hot needles were stirring just under his skin.

But except for his burning arms, the rest of his body felt uncomfortably cold. Sweat had collected along the creases of his pants, and the spot under his knees was still damp. The cement floor sapped his body heat wherever he touched it, and as a result, he'd started shivering hours ago despite the searing touch of metal against his skin.

_I could go to sleep and freeze to death, _he thought, swallowing. Hours of screaming had left his throat raw, so even the simple motion made it ache anew. He couldn't recall ever being in so much pain. Even in Tokyo, where the rain had burned his skin and the Other's sword had pierced his leg, he'd never felt pain like this.

_I could go to sleep, _he thought again. _I could go to sleep and die, and it would be over. _

He closed his eyes, lowering his head and curling up as much as he could with his arms bound behind his back. His cheeks were slimy, his chest carpeted in peeling skin and scabs. A crust of blood had formed over all his fingertips now, since Cassie had finished ripping his fingernails out of his other hand about an hour ago.

He wondered, not for the first time, if anyone was really looking for him. Fai had been so kind to him these past few days, but it could've all been an act. _What would he care if I lived or died? _Syaoran wondered. _He's probably be relieved, not having to see my face anymore. _

His lungs convulsed, and a quiet sob broke through his control. He pressed his mouth against his knees to stifle the sound. The thought that they might not even be _looking _for him made his heart clench. Or perhaps Fai had searched for a while, then gone back to the apartment, assuming he'd return. Maybe they wouldn't even start worrying until tomorrow, when he didn't show up for breakfast.

_I could be dead by then. Really dead. _He took a shaky breath, trying to come to terms with the possibility. Because somehow, even with everything they'd sacrificed to continue this journey, he hadn't believed he could die. Not here. Not in some stranger's basement, carved up like a cow in the slaughterhouse. And if he'd expected to die, he would've thought it would be defending Sakura. At the very least, he'd expected his death to be swift.

_Could I even make it through another day of this? _he wondered, eyes darting to the dark red ridges on his chest. None of the cuts were deep enough to put him at risk of bleeding out, though their cumulative effect had weakened him. With the heat from the hearth sterilizing the knives as they sliced away, he wasn't likely to die of infection either. Theoretically, Cassie and her friends could draw this out for weeks, tormenting him as he sat here waiting for his companions to come for him.

And just like that, his fear switched from dying to being unable to die, trapped in this agony for days and days until it broke him. Another sob tore through his throat, and he curled up even tighter, shivering. _No, _he thought, breathing hard. _No, I still have my magic. All the spells I know would swallow me up if I tried to use them in this enclosed space. _

He exhaled, wondering which spell would be quickest. Pressed up against the wall, the blowback from any one of his spells would kill him. It was just a matter of how long he could last until he became desperate enough to try.

_What if no one's coming? _he wondered, throat tightening. _What if they can't find me? _His breathing hitched again, and a pair of tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. _What if they get sick of searching and just leave me here?_

_What if Kurogane doesn't come for me? _

He shook off the thought. Of _course _Kurogane would come for him. Even if nothing had changed since Tokyo, the ninja still would've searched for him. He knew that, knew it as surely he knew that winter followed fall, and spring followed winter. Still, that seed of doubt remained, dark tendrils wrapping around his heart and sinking thorns into his flesh.

As he heard footsteps descending from the main level, he closed his eyes and tried to believe it was Kurogane walking down the stairs.

It wasn't.


	48. Broken Toes and Bleach

Chapter Forty-Eight

The door at the bottom of the steps swung open, and Syaoran recognized Jet by his crimson hair. The skinny man glanced at him through a pair of round spectacles, then strolled over to the tool bench where the blonde had left her instruments of torture. "I heard Cassie did a number on you."

Syaoran said nothing, not sure he could manage a reply without having terror seep into his voice. Jet regarded him for a moment, then set aside whatever he'd been holding and strode over to him.

"Sorry about my girlfriend," he said, shrugging as if torturing someone was no more than a minor offense. "She likes to play with knives."

_And you? _he wanted to ask. Fear kept him silent, kept his eyes averted.

Jet smirked. "Y'know there's no point in holding back your screams, right? Your friends won't find you. You're not getting out of here. This room—" He gestured widely, indicating the whole basement. "—it's soundproofed. We're the only ones who can hear you scream, so why not let it out? Cassie might go easier on you then."

His lips pressed into a thin line, but still, he said nothing.

The man's smirk widened so far, he looked like the jack-o-lanterns Syaoran had seen through the Other's eyes. "Well, since Cassie's napping, I decided to take a shift."

_So he's just like her, _Syaoran thought, unsurprised. His wounds started throbbing again, his body curling in on itself in anticipation of the next cut, the next burn. Jet pulled something from his pocket and examined it as if it was a fascinating artifact. To Syaoran, it looked like a nutcracker. "What's that for?" he asked warily, hoping this man would be more easily distracted by questions than Cassie had been.

Jet squeezed the metal handles. The nutcracker folded around the air, as if pinching a walnut. "Just a hobby of mine. Y'see, it's too easy to kill your victim when you make 'em bleed like Cassie does." Spindly fingers coiled around Syaoran's ankle, and he pulled back instinctively. Jet shifted, slamming his heel into Syaoran's knee.

The world went white with pain for a split second. Through the agony, Syaoran barely heard himself scream, barely felt the forceful tug as Jet laid his leg flat against the cement. Sweat beaded at the back of his neck and flowed between his shoulders.

"Much better," Jet said, still pinning his knee with his heel. Syaoran looked at his kneecap, trying to determine if it was broken or if the ligaments were merely torn. Either way, the recovery time was more than he could afford. If he lived long enough for it to matter.

A cold pressure around his big toe drew his attention, momentarily distracting him from the lightning bolts shooting through his knee. "What are you—"

_Crack_. His world lit up again, fire clawing its way up his legs as another scream ripped free of his throat. Time slowed, his mind processing the pain in excruciating detail as it snaked its way up his leg from his big toe. _Broken_, he knew at once, biting his lip to muffle the scream.

He tasted blood.

"Yes, much better. Screams make the whole process more entertaining. Now . . ." Jet looked up, eyes brimming with amusement. "Which toe shall we break next?"

* * *

Fai peered down the alleyway, chest tightening when he found nothing. Sighing, he glanced back at Kurogane and shook his head.

The ninja nodded, an odd expression crossing his face. It was a strange mix of concern and hopelessness. Which looked, in Fai's opinion, _unnatural _on a face like Kurogane's. "I don't think I've ever seen you this worried."

A pair of dark red eyes flickered to his face, then away, lacking the usual anger. "Yeah."

They kept walking, at the same pace they'd been walking all night. With his vampire attributes, the pace felt almost sluggish to him, easily maintainable over a long period. But as the sidewalks grew crowded with people hustling to their day jobs, the lines of fatigue on the ninja's face deepened, turning to shadowed crevices.

_He's still human, _Fai thought, fighting a twinge of guilt. _And because he's human, he's scared. _

It was strange to think about. Kurogane had always seemed like an immovable object, a desert stone that remained hard and unchanging for millennia. Now, it was as if the man was cracking, being chipped away bit by bit.

"What are you staring at?" Kurogane asked. Fai blinked, then looked away, embarrassed.

"You just . . . surprise me."

The man rolled his eyes. "Idiot. I'd do the same thing if it was you or the princess missing."

Fai stared at him a moment longer, filing that information away for later on. They kept walking, weaving through the thickening crowd. As they moved, a faint, high-pitched sound pierced his eardrum, a wavering screech, like the sound of a serrated blade striking steel, but more guttural. He paused, and felt Kurogane freeze just behind him, narrowly avoiding a collision. "What?" the ninja demanded.

Fai lifted a hand. "Quiet."

The ninja fell silent, drawing back, and Fai tapped into his vampire senses again, until his head started to pound from the assault of sensory information. He could hear every heartbeat, every footstep, of the passersby, and the midmorning light blinded his remaining eye. The air currents raised the fine hairs on his arms, every breeze trailing across his skin like fingernails.

The faint screech quadrupled in volume, along with the squeak of rats in the alleyway. Fai's stomach dropped to his heels even as his heart jumped into his throat. Without a conscious command, his hand snaked out to grab Kurogane's wrist, and he started dragging the heavier man toward the source of the grating wail.

"What _is _it?"

Fai winced, Kurogane's question booming in his ears. He pulled the man deeper into the alleyway, heading toward the source of the sound. _I should've been able to hear it sooner, _he thought, pressing his ear to a metal door, then continuing on, searching for the source. The screech resonated in his bones, making his molars vibrate. "I hear him."

"Where?"

"Quiet," Fai hissed, pressing his ear against another door. The screech was louder, unmistakable despite being muffled. He stepped away from the door. "He's in there. I'm sure of it."

"Move," Kurogane commanded. Fai obeyed, retreating until his back pressed against the brick wall. The red-eyed man strode over to the door, cracked his knuckles, and threw a punch. The doorframe buckled under the impact, crumpling like cheap wood despite being steel. Blood ran down Kurogane's knuckles, the scent sweet to his nose.

Inside, Syaoran's screams cut off.

* * *

He whimpered, his scabbed-over fingertips digging into the meat of his palms.

Jet lifted the nutcracker, examining it as if looking for flaws. The joint holding it together had shattered at the same moment his third toe had, and however brief the reprieve, at least he had a chance to breathe and collect himself.

"Piece of shit," Jet muttered, casting the nutcracker aside. It hit the cement with a metallic clang and skittered across the floor until it hit the sheetrock. "Whatever. There are better ways to torture someone."

The assurance sent a shiver through his broken body, and another whimper slipped through his control. The red-haired man strolled over to the workbench where Cassie had left her tools and crouched down, pulling something from underneath the desk. Syaoran watched, struggling to see around the redhead. As Jet turned, Syaoran slumped against the wall, fear making the air in his lungs turn to sand, choking him . . .

Jet jostled the jug of bleach. The liquid inside sloshed around.

Syaoran writhed, shackles grinding against his skin, rubbing it raw. Pain lanced through his shoulder as he tried to yank himself free. It didn't matter if he broke his wrists or dislocated his shoulders—he had to get _out _of here.

"Don't be such a wuss." Jet unscrewed the lid. "You think you're the first person we've brought down here? It gets a lot worse than this."

"No!" He threw himself forward, hot needles piercing his numb arms. Some distant part of his mind wondered how much nerve damage he'd incurred, having his arms bound up like this. His nerves kept dancing between icy numbness and a stinging prickly feeling.

Another part of his mind was busy calculating his odds of escaping right _now_.

Fingers coiled around his throat, making him gag. With a strength that belied his scrawny exterior, Jet slammed him into the wall and tilted his head back, clamping his windpipe shut.

"Two options," Jet hissed, holding up the bottle of bleach. "I can start with your eyes, or I can pour some down your throat."

Syaoran tried to shake his head. The redhead's fingers dug deeper into his neck, hard enough to leave bruises. Not that it mattered. Not that anyone would ever see the bruises except for his captors.

"Hurry up and choose, or I'll take a hose and pump it up your—"

A crash resounded through the room, followed by a quieter impact. The hand around his throat loosened, and he jerked his head away, instinctively curling up to protect his face. His lungs seized up, dragging air through his lips, yet providing no relief. It felt like he was drowning, or dying.

"Who the hell are _you_?" Jet demanded, turning and dropping the open bleach bottle at his feet so the clear liquid spread across the concrete. Syaoran squirmed, trying to avoid the growing pool. The bleach poured out of the bottle, pushing the edge of the puddle further, until it soaked his pant legs. Agony shattered his injured knee as he tried to move away, and he gasped.

"Get. _Away_. From. Him."

Syaoran looked up, still choking, pain shredding through his body like razorblades, and saw a pair of blood-red eyes glaring at Jet.

Kurogane had come at last.


	49. Visceral Satisfaction

Chapter Forty-Nine

"Hey, man, this is a misunderstanding—"

Kurogane's fist slammed into Jet's face, knuckles connecting with his jaw and throwing him against the soundproofed walls. "Misunderstanding?" he echoed, cold fury seeping into his voice, sending a chill down Syaoran's back. Kurogane glared at the red-haired man, fists trembling at his side.

A wave of relief crashed over Syaoran, soothing the ache in his body. He slumped where he sat, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his face and chest, mingling with the blood, the tears. And when Kurogane punched Jet's stomach, the relief morphed into a sort of visceral satisfaction.

"You," Kurogane snarled, grabbing the redhead's neck and smashing his back against the wall. Jet clawed at the ninja's hands, blunt fingernails scraping against the tan skin. "You're lucky Tomoyo put that curse on me, otherwise I'd string you up by your ankles and take a sword to your entrails."

The threat, so sharply reminiscent of his last few hours here, sent a shudder down Syaoran's spine. He watched Jet's face turn red, then purple, then blue as Kurogane clamped down on his throat. When the man's hands fell limp at his side, Kurogane released him, letting him slide down the sheetrock.

Fai peered around the edge of the doorway, his face grim. "I took care of the other ones. They won't wake up for a few hours, at least."

"We ought to kill them," Kurogane said. Syaoran fidgeted, trying to match his frigid tone with that of the man who'd kissed him so tenderly just a few days ago. Who had rejected him only to show up here to save him. The two images battled in his mind, refusing to meld together.

Fai hurried over and crouched at his side, protected from the puddle of bleach by his tennis shoes. Chains jingled at Syaoran's back, and his hands twitched, itching for freedom. When the restraints fell away, he wrapped his arms around his torso and pushed himself away from the bleach, his injured knee dragging across the cement, sending jolts of pain up his leg.

"Don't move too much," Fai said, unsheathing his claws and dragging them over the bleach-soaked cloth of his pants. The fabric fell away, and Fai wiped a cloth handkerchief from Jade Country over the back of his leg, wiping away the stinging liquid. "Where else are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, more out of reflex than honesty. A pair of footsteps approached, silent even over the cement floor.

"You're not fine," Kurogane said. "We're taking you to the hospital."

Syaoran said nothing. For once, he had to agree that he needed professional medical treatment, no matter how expensive. He relaxed against the wall, still shivering from the cold. As his sweat had cooled, it had started to feel like someone had poured ice water across his back. More than anything, he wanted to get away from this place.

"Mokona, get him a blanket," Fai said, fingertips probing the skin just beneath one of the lacerations. His own skin felt like ice beside the magician's, and Syaoran wondered if he'd survived all this just to die of hypothermia.

A moment later, he felt a layer of cloth wrap around his shoulders and fall over his shredded chest. His hands coiled around the fabric, pulling it flush against his body, and he sighed in relief.

"C'mon kid," Kurogane said, crouching beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'll carry you out."

"Careful of his knee," Fai warned. "I think it's broken."

_ Broken, _he thought, flinching as sparks of pain danced through his body. _I'm broken, I'm broken . . ._ Syaoran inhaled sharply as Kurogane picked him up. He pressed his face against the man's shirt, trying to ignore his headache, holding back the tears of relief even as part of him feared he might never recover, might never be able to see his Sakura again.

"What are we going to do about _them_?" Fai asked. Eyes closed, Syaoran could only assume he meant his trio of tormentors.

"Leave them. The hospital workers will know someone who can deal with them."

The world swayed beneath him as Kurogane moved, and he tucked his head in the crease between the man's elbow and his chest. After hours of freezing on the cement floor, the ninja's body felt almost feverish. Syaoran went limp as the warmth worked through him. Only when a door squeaked open did a rush of cold air bring him out of his stupor. His eyes popped open. "It's cold."

"Yeah." Kurogane shifted, surrounding him with his arms to keep the worst of the cold at bay. "I know."

"You came for me."

"Of course we did."

Syaoran closed his eyes again, relaxing. "_Of course we did," _he'd said, as if he hadn't, even for a moment, considered leaving him. Yet even as those words echoed in his head, another chorus rippled through his mind, one that left him aching.

_ "You don't love me, and I don't love you."_

* * *

The kid's body went limp in his arms, and for one awful second, Kurogane thought the boy had died, that he'd gotten here too late, that the internal damage was too severe. Then the mage spoke. "I put him under a sleep spell. He'll be out for a few hours."

"You might've mentioned that before you did it," Kurogane snapped, wishing he had a free hand to punch the idiot with. Instead, he cradled the sleeping boy closer to his chest, picking up the pace as he headed toward the arena. There was a hospital ward for the competitors there, the only place he could think of where someone could deal with injuries like the kid's.

"Would you really want to be awake through that kind of pain?" Fai asked, nodding toward the boy. Kurogane glanced down, forcing himself to take stock of the kid's injuries. The beige blanket concealed most of the damage, but the purple welts on his head remained visible, and Kurogane could see part of a blistering burn on his neck, as if someone had heated a piece of metal and used it to brand him. Which was almost certainly what had happened, given some of the tools he'd seen beside the fireplace after he'd knocked that redheaded bastard unconscious. The mage had also mentioned a possible broken knee, which would make moving around a bitch and take the kid out of the chess games for at least a month, probably longer.

He sighed, feeling even more exhausted than he'd felt half an hour ago. "No. But I'd rather he not have to go through the pain at all." It was a stupid thing to say—he knew that. Still, a tiny part of him wanted to talk to the witch, to make a deal and wipe the memory of the last sixteen hours from the kid's mind. Not that Kurogane ever would've admitted to wanting to talk to Yuuko. The price wouldn't be worth it, when the kid would recover on his own, anyway.

But damn, he wanted to.

They made it to the hospital after just a few minutes. It seemed strange how they'd searched all night, and Syaoran had been less than a mile from their apartment complex, barely a few blocks from the arena. _Close enough that he would've been in the meat bun's translation range the whole time, _he thought irrelevantly, pausing outside the main entrance as Fai walked around him and pulled open the door. As soon as they walked in, a flurry of hospital staff rushed over.

"Oh, goodness, what happened?"

Fai opened his mouth to explain. Kurogane thrust the boy into the nearest nurse's arms. "Take care of him. He's hurt."

The man blinked, as if unsure what to do with his new patient, then turned and set Syaoran on those wheeled hospital carts they used to transport injured fighters from the arena. Meanwhile, the swarm of miscellaneous hospital staff turned to Fai as he explained where they'd found Syaoran, and the poor condition he'd been in. Midway through his explanation, one of the employees left, only to return a moment later on the phone with some sort of local law enforcement(did they have ninjas in this world, Kurogane wondered, or was it like the police force patrolling the Hanshin Republic?), and several official-looking documents in hand.

Half an hour passed before a woman in blue scrubs approached from his flank. He turned, pulling his hands from his pockets. "Excuse me, sir," she said. "Are you related to that boy you brought in?"

"Yes," he said because it would yield quicker results.

When he didn't elaborate, the woman raised one eyebrow. "Are you his father? His brother?"

Well, he supposed trying to tell the truth was pointless. Most worlds had no concept of dimensional traveling, and he wasn't about to attempt to explain the complicated series of events that had led up to this conversation. "I'm his father," he lied.

Relief swept across the woman's face. "I'm Doctor Yamura. I'm the primary physician for your son."

Kurogane nodded, feigning comprehension. For a world that had a written language so similar to his own, they'd made up a lot of unnecessary words—_nurse_ and _doctor_ in place of the word _healer_, _physician_ as an alternate word to _doctor_, and a whole bunch of other words Kurogane could barely grasp, even with the pork bun modifying everyone's accents and making the new words comprehensible, if baffling in their complexity.

So for ten minutes, he listened to Doctor Yamura outline several procedures for which she needed parental consent(which Kurogane thought was ridiculous, since any parent in their right mind ought to want their kid treated, and, in his opinion, any healer or variation thereof should just assume so). When Doctor Yamura produced a pen and handed him the paper, he reluctantly started paging through the document to figure out where he needed to sign, and where he merely needed to put his initials or other pertinent information. When the doctor quizzed him about Syaoran's medical history, he told her the kid had never had much need of medical treatment until he'd started fighting in the chess tournaments, which the hospital staff already had records of. But apart from what he'd seen for himself, he really had no idea what sort of health issues the kid might have.

When Doctor Yamura finally stopped peppering him with questions, Kurogane took a seat in the padded chair next to the mage, tilting his head back so his hair brushed against the sheetrock. "I hate this world."

He wasn't looking at Fai's face, but he could hear the faint twinge of amusement in his voice. "Why?"

"Too many rules. Too much bullshit. Things are so much simpler in Nihon."

"In my world as well."

Kurogane glanced at him, surprised he'd mentioned his home world at all. Even the vague agreement was more than he'd alluded to in the past several _months_. Kurogane almost called him on it, almost demanded a more detailed explanation of what was so horrible about the mage's world that he'd been forced to run away from it. And then he closed his eyes again, sinking deeper into the chair's cushions.

He was too tired to deal with any more bullshit today.


	50. I'm Fine

Chapter Fifty

"Excuse me. Sir?"

Kurogane surfaced as if from a dream, his eyelids heavy, his body much too relaxed, his senses dull. When he realized Doctor Yamura had not only come within five feet of him without waking him up, but was looming over him in a way that ought to be impossible for her physique, he jumped in his chair. "What?"

"Your son is out of surgery."

It took him a moment to remember that he'd identified himself as Syaoran's father to get through the paperwork. "Uh . . . okay."

The doctor gave him an odd look, fidgeting uneasily. "He's in the ICU, if you want to see him."

"The ICU?"

"The Intensive Care Unit." Doctor Yamura stepped back as he stood, eyes flashing wide as he towered over her. "Um . . . that's in the South Wing. Room four-forty-one." She pointed. "If you want, I can have one of the staff escort you—"

"No." He started walking in the indicated direction, feeling the woman's eyes on the back of his neck. "I'll find it."

Panels of light illuminated the pristine hallways, reflecting off trays of sharp instruments, syringes, and other, unidentifiable equipment. As he passed the rows of tools, he couldn't help but think of the basement where they'd found the kid, or the bladed instruments strewn across the workbench. Couldn't help but think about the lacerations on the boy's chest, or the beaten, broken look in his eyes when they'd swaddled him in blankets.

Kurogane started walking faster, as if he could put the nightmares out of his mind. It took him less than a minute to reach the ICU, and less than thirty seconds after that to find the appropriate room. When he walked in, his eyes froze on the figure lying limp on the bed. A sheen of sweat glistened on Syaoran's pallid skin, and the bruises on his face looked dark and splotchy, as if someone had splattered purple paint over him.

Without a thought, Kurogane strode over and knelt beside the bed, his hand closing over Syaoran's. The boy didn't respond, didn't even twitch, and somehow, that scared Kurogane even more than seeing him chained to a wall. His hand tightened around the boy's icy fingers, then froze as a tiny thought cemented itself in his mind.

_Where are his fingernails?_

He turned the boy's hand over, being careful of all the wiring and medical equipment, and examined his fingers, throat tightening. A crust of blood covered each fingertip where there should've been a nail, and even the nurses' best efforts to clean him off hadn't been scrubbed away the browning crust clinging to his skin.

_Damn it, _Kurogane thought, breathing in, then exhaling as he tried to keep the emotion building in the back of his throat in check. _I should've killed those bastards. Curse be damned, I should've killed them._

Sixteen hours. That was, at most, how long the kid had been tortured. Just sixteen hours. Yet now he was lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, his body carpeted in bandages and an IV dripping clear fluid into his bloodstream, and Kurogane felt as useless as he had when Fei Wang had stuck a sword through his mother's heart.

The monitors to Syaoran's left maintained a steady rhythm, like a clock marking time. The ninja didn't know how long he sat there before he heard a faint knock on the wall. He glanced up, reflexively releasing the boy's hand, and saw of Fai standing in the doorway with a paper bag reeking of grease and salt. "I went to get food. I didn't know Syaoran-kun would wake up."

Kurogane sighed, shrugged, and stood, trying not to look at the unmoving lump under the sheets as Fai handed him the paper bag. He squeezed himself into another padded chair and unrolled the top of the bag, hardly caring about the crap quality of the food.

"I called Sakura-chan," Fai continued, taking a seat in the chair beside him and looking down at the floor. "I'm going back to the apartment in a few minutes so I can walk her here. It's not safe to be outside alone in this world."

Kurogane wanted to point out that it was safer now than it had been before he'd knocked that redheaded bastard unconscious, but there were more pressing questions. "You put me under a sleep spell, didn't you? After I sat down?" _Don't you dare deny it, you bastard, _he thought, remembering how disoriented he'd felt waking up, how he still felt groggy now despite the pit of unease in his stomach.

"Yes. You needed it."

"You could've said something."

"You never would've agreed to it."

"Of course not! Why the hell would I want to _sleep_? I could've—"

"You didn't miss anything. The surgery went well, and the doctors stitched up all the lacerations. You would've been bored."

"I would've been _alert_." _There's a difference, damn it. _

"I was trying to be _nice_!" Fai snapped. Kurogane blinked, stunned into silence by the frustration in the mage's voice. "You'd tell all of us to take care of ourselves in the same situation—why shouldn't I do the same?"

His voice whipped out, pitched low, but laced with cold fury. "I wouldn't be so bitter about it."

A wave of visceral pleasure washed over him as the mage flinched. He crossed his arms. Fai looked down, saying nothing.

On the bed, the kid stirred.

They both jumped to their feet, looming over the thin mattress as Syaoran's head lolled to the side. Kurogane glanced toward the door, unsure if he should call one of the nurses in or let the kid wake up on his own. He half-considered asking the mage to pull him from his sleep with magic, then groaned internally at how ridiculous that was. The kid was tough. He'd bounce back.

Yet he'd been so quiet, back in that basement. Not relieved. Not even scared. No, the boy had looked exhausted and hurt and weary. As if he'd wanted the pain to end, regardless of the price.

As if they'd broken him.

"Kid?" His own voice sounded foreign to his ears. His throat tightened, dread settling in his stomach like rotten meat. Sickening. Kurogane closed his eyes and took a breath. _Calm the fuck down, _he told himself. _He's _fine_. He's always fine. _

"Syaoran-kun," Fai murmured, resting his palm over the boy's forearm. Kurogane's eyes flashed to the point of contact, his hands bunching into fists at his side. Surprise flickered across the mage's face, and his fingers loosened. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Kurogane snapped. "I'm not the one you should be asking."

An odd look crossed the wizard's face, as if something had just clicked into place for him. He turned his attention back to Syaoran. "The doctors said he'd be groggy when he woke up. If he doesn't seem the same—"

"I know." He took another deep breath, eyes flashing to the boy's left hand as it twitched with the beginnings of awareness.

The mage said nothing, eyes far away, as if seeing some distant world.

Several minutes passed without a word. The rhythmic _beep _of the monitors gradually accelerated, though if Kurogane hadn't been listening for it, he wouldn't have noticed. He'd learned enough of medical care from previous worlds to understand the purpose of these beeping machines. In a way, it was no more effective than pressing two fingers to someone's neck to ascertain whether or not they had a pulse. Another unnecessary addition to something that had existed for centuries, like the extra words for healer. As the minutes passed, the signs of consciousness grew more pronounced. When a soft whimper escaped Syaoran's throat, Kurogane leaned forward. "Kid? You up?"

The whimper turned to a groan. Syaoran started to roll over, then froze, a hiss of pain breaking through his teeth. And all Kurogane could think was _It must be bad__ if he's not even trying to __hide his pain. _

"Syaoran-kun, can you open your eyes?" Fai leaned forward, a hopeful smile curving up his lips. The faint cheer looked so false, Kurogane wanted to hit him. Which was nothing new, really. It was only by the grace of quick reflexes that the mage had never taken a bad hit from him.

The boy's eyelids scrunched up, his eyebrows slanting back. His fingers coiled around the sheets, and his breathing sped. The blood drained out of his face, leaving it more pallid than before.

"Go get the princess," Kurogane ordered. "Bring her here. Don't lose track of her."

Fai winced at the unspoken accusation, but rose. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." And he fled, rushing out the open door as if there was something stalking him.

Kurogane rested his palm across a section of the boy's arm where there were no scrapes. "All right. The mage is gone. Open your eyes and talk to me."

Syaoran fidgeted, face drawn, shoulders tight. His eyelids fluttered, revealing haunted, hollow eyes. Kurogane looked at him for a moment, trying to detect some semblance of normalcy, some indication that the damage was only physical.

The kid's eyes drifted away from his face, glazed and bloodshot. "Where am I?"

"The hospital. You're safe." Saying the words eased the tightness in his throat. "You're safe," he said again, closing his eyes for a brief moment, allowing himself to feel the relief.

"And those people, back in the basement?"

"Arrested. All of them." Or they would be, if they weren't already. The mage had taken care of that little detail while he'd been signing papers to approve the kid's surgery.

"I wish they were dead."

Kurogane froze, the words running down his back like a ice cube. Wanting someone dead. He knew that feeling, knew there were people who deserved to die, people who _had _died, either at his hand or at others', but to hear the kid say so . . . Disquiet dug its fingers into his back.

"It's a horrible thing to say," Syaoran continued, his voice empty, his eyes dull. "But it's true."

"Listen," he said, changing the topic. "You're going to be fine. You got hurt and the doctors stitched you up, but you're going to be fine, got it?"

The boy said nothing, only looking at him with the same awful blankness of a moment ago. Then, he closed his eyes. "I'm starving."

"Do you want me to bring you something?" He started to stand, then froze when Syaoran's eyes flashed open. A feral desperation swept across his face, made more intense by the sallow hue of his skin, and his hand twitched toward Kurogane, as if seeking a connection. And then he stopped, staring at his half-extended hand as if it had betrayed him somehow. It fell limp atop the sheets as he looked away.

"No," Syaoran whispered. "I'm fine."


	51. Not Fine After All

Chapter Fifty-One

Kurogane sighed and sank into one of the chairs. "The mage and the princess will be here in a few minutes. You ready to see them?"

"Sakura-hime is coming?" A shred of hope slipped into Syaoran's voice, then vanished with the next words. "Does she know what happened?"

"She knows as much as the rest of us. How we found you, what we saw before then, what condition you're in now." His eyes flickered to the bandages peeking out from under the blankets. He suspected the gauze covered most of the kid's torso, just as he suspected the elongated bump under the sheets was a cast for his leg. With a sigh, he stood again and approached the bedside. "Will you be ready to see her when she gets here?"

Syaoran nodded, life returning to his face. Kurogane moved to tousle the boy's hair, then stopped, his hand dropping onto the sheets. This wasn't the time or place to even think about mending their relationship—he wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to. Hadn't he been steering the kid back into some sense of normalcy? Hadn't he been trying to get him to interact with the others? He should _want _the kid to be with the princess, especially now, when he needed comfort more than anything else.

Uncertainty danced in the boy's eyes, mingling with a spark of hope. Kurogane withdrew his hand and watched that hope gutter out like a candle left to die.

"I was scared," Syaoran whispered after a moment, looking away.

_Of course you were, _he wanted to say. He kept his mouth shut. Even in his head, the words sounded too comforting, too affectionate. Breaking that connection now would save them both a lot of pain.

"I was scared they were going to kill me. Or that I wouldn't be able to die. I was scared no one would come for me."

"We were looking for you the whole time you were gone."

Syaoran continued as if he hadn't heard. "And I kept telling myself that I could hold out as long as I had to, until someone came, but then I was there for _hours_, and no one . . ." His eyes clouded. "And I wondered how long it would take for someone to hear me screaming—"

Kurogane winced.

"—but no one came, so I just _sat_ there and told myself that I couldn't die, that I was stronger than that. I'd been screaming and crying for hours, and I thought that maybe no one cared. Maybe Fai-san had gone back to the apartment without looking for me, or no one had noticed that I was gone." He took a shuddering breath. "I'm not invincible. I can die, just like everybody else. I almost did."

Kurogane stared at the boy for a long moment, remembering how thoughts of mortality had hung around him like a toxic cloud in the months after his parents had died. How he'd had to come to terms with the fact that if he didn't keep getting stronger, someone, somewhere, would eventually kill him. And some had come closer than he wanted to admit during this journey.

But for all the boy had acted like he was unafraid of death, it was only now that Kurogane saw how it weighed on him. Only now that the kid had lost that childish sense of immortality. A necessary change, since they faced constant adversity, but it pained Kurogane to watch. He broke his rule and tousled the kid's hair, being careful of the purple splotches on the side of his head. And he said nothing, just letting that point of contact be enough. After a few moments, Syaoran's body relaxed, eyes sliding shut. "You're not saying anything."

"Just rest."

The boy shook his head. "I'll have nightmares."

Kurogane sighed and buried his head in his hands. _Can't fix that. Can't fix any of this. _He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and forcing himself to meet the kid's eyes. Syaoran's expression revealed nothing. "Hey, kid . . . Are you going to be all right?"

"My worst injury has to be my knee, right? That'll heal eventually, and I'll be back to normal."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"I said I was fine."

"Then talk to me! Tell me what they did to you. Tell me what I can do to make it better." _Just fucking talk to me. _

"Talk?" Syaoran echoed, eyes sliding over to his face. "To you?"

"I don't see what's so damn difficult about it."

Anger twisted the kid's features, followed by puzzlement, then guilt. Finally, he sighed and stared up at the tiled ceiling, his gaze a thousand miles away. He took a deep breath, collapsing in on himself like a log turning to ash in a campfire. "You said we couldn't do this anymore."

He made a frustrated gesture. "I meant—you know what I meant." _Oh, hell. _

Syaoran's voice dropped to a whisper. "You said we couldn't be together. You said the others were getting suspicious. And I was starting to accept that." His lips twisted into a grimace. "That I didn't need anyone to hold me up, that I could manage things on my own. And then _this _happened." He gestured to the bandages on his torso, then winced.

"This isn't your fault."

"What makes you think it's not?"

"How could you know that would happen?"

"I didn't. But I should have."

"That's ridiculous."

The boy shook his head. "That's not the point. The whole time I was down there, I was helpless. I couldn't do anything to stop the pain. I couldn't even kill myself because there was a chance that maybe you were looking for me after all. All I could do was sit there and wait to be rescued. Do you have any idea how _awful _. . ." He trailed off, as if the conversation had exhausted him. Perhaps it had—healing took a lot of energy. The kid couldn't really afford to expend this much effort in pointless arguments.

"Syaoran."

The boy went still, as if paralyzed. Then, slowly, he folded his arms over his abdomen, gaze returning to the ceiling even as his eyes glittered with unshed tears. He said nothing, but his breath came faster, and his knuckles went pale as his hands bunched up into fists. Fighting for control.

Kurogane laid a hand on Syaoran's forehead and smoothed his hair back. "I don't know how to fix this. I can't make it any easier. But I can try. Now tell me what you need."

The kid closed his eyes, body going limp under the sheets. He pulled them tighter around himself. "Could you get me another blanket? I'm cold."

A strange sense of disappointment rippled through him. "Sure, kid." He stood and searched the room for something to keep him warm. When he found a colorful, handmade blanket with tassels, he laid it over the boy. A contented noise escaped his throat, like the sound an animal might make as it retreated into its den.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Need anything else?"

Syaoran shook his head. "This is enough."

Kurogane collapsed into one of the chairs, letting out a sigh. He hadn't realized how integral his relationship with the kid had been to his sanity until he'd broken it off, or how much he'd _missed _talking to him. _But it's over now, _he told himself. _It has to be._

* * *

Syaoran dozed, mind swimming with painkillers. The constant ache he'd felt in that basement had faded, but the foreign liquids flooding his bloodstream made his whole body feel heavy—eyelids, arms, legs. A solid white cast clung to one leg, holding his broken knee in place, and there were bandages wrapped around his hand where Cassie had jammed a knife through it, but his mind was so far removed from his injuries that it took him several minutes to understand the purpose of the gauze and cast. At least, he thought it was several minutes, but the clock on the wall claimed fifteen had passed, and the spinning in his head wouldn't stop.

Regardless of how much time actually passed, Sakura and Fai arrived at his room not long after he woke, both of them looming in the doorway until Kurogane gestured for them to enter.

"How are you feeling?" Fai asked, perching himself at the edge of a chair.

"Fine." His eyelids grew heavy again, and he struggled to keep them open. "I'm sorry I wandered off." A lot sorrier given the consequences, but still sorry he'd been so petty.

Fai tousled his hair, hand moving faster than his eyes could track. "Don't worry about that. It's not your fault."

The corner of his lip twitched. _"It's not your fault_._" _As if that really assuaged his guilt. As if such platitudes could lessen his recovery time or erase the horror of the past twenty-four hours from his mind. _At least they came, _he told himself, shifting his gaze over to Sakura. Her jade eyes stared back at him, mouth stretched into a grimace, eyebrows furrowed. The wind had tossed her hair into disarray, leaving dozens of sunset-tinged strands sticking up from her scalp. The cold had turned her cheeks rosy.

"It's good to see you," he said, throat closing up. It was so easy to forget, sometimes, that she wasn't the Sakura he'd fallen in love with. So easy to meld the two together in his mind so they were a single image. An issue that was likely just as pressing for her whenever she looked at him.

He could see why this Sakura avoided him. Because even though he _knew_ she was a clone, he wanted to stand at her side and protect her as if she was the original. Wanted to fall in love with her even though she was mourning for his copy. Wanted to pretend everything was all right, and that they were normal teenagers, and that he'd never slept with anybody or come close to loving anybody else.

It was all rather pathetic.

Sakura approached his bedside, her black and white skirt catching on the edge of one of the chairs so she had to pull it free. "Fai-san told me what happened. I'm sorry."

_Sorry? _He raised an eyebrow. "Don't be. I'm fine." A tremor slipped into the last word, and he looked away. He wasn't _fine_. He was about as far from _fine _as he'd ever been. The only time he'd been less _fine _had been when Fei Wang had printed the seal of death across his Sakura's body while he'd been helpless to stop it.

No, he wasn't _fine_. Not at all.


	52. Wheelchair-Bound

Chapter Fifty-Two

It was as Kurogane and Fai had come to a unified decision without ever exchanging a word. They both stood at the same moment, glancing at him. Kurogane nodded and slipped out of the room. Fai forced a smile, waved, then followed, leaving Sakura inside with Syaoran.

"So," Syaoran said, trying to stay coherent through the haze of painkillers. "What happened while I was gone?"

Sakura's eyes widened, as if she hadn't expected him to ask about something so mundane. "Well, Kurogane-san and Fai-san both went searching for you as soon as Fai-san got back from the bookstore. They didn't want me to go." Her eyes darted down her her hands, which were folded atop her lap. "They called a few times while they were out, checking to see if you'd come back to the apartment. They said someone had to stay in case you came back, but . . ." She lowered her voice. "I think they didn't want me dragging them down. Or maybe they didn't want me to see what condition you were in when they found you. We thought you might be . . ."

"Dead?" Syaoran suggested.

Sakura nodded, eyes downcast. Her voice softened. "I know I've acted cold to you since we met in Tokyo. There are reasons why it has to be that way. I think you understand them." Her gaze flicked down to his face, scrutinizing his reaction. _Understand what? _he wondered, trying to decipher the secrets twinkling in her eyes. _What does she know? What does she think _I _know? _His lips slipped into a frown, then a grimace as the possibilities flitted through his mind. _Does she know about what's happened between Kurogane-san and me? Is that why she's been so distant? But if that was it, wouldn't she only have started acting distant _after_ she found out? Unless she knew it would turn out that way from the moment she met me. This Sakura has magic, just like the original. Did she see something? _

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said, hoping to draw the information out of her.

Disappointment flickered in her eyes. She drew back, glancing over her shoulder. Then, she leaned close and said four words. "I'm not your Sakura."

He flinched, then turned his face so he was staring up at the ceiling. He kept quiet, unsure if he was supposed to admit to knowing about that.

Sakura sighed and weaved her fingers through his. "You miss her."

His teeth buried themselves in his lower lip.

"Someday, you'll meet her again, and everything will be exactly as it should be. That's all I can say about this now. Anything more . . ." She trailed off, then shook her head. Her hand slipped away from his as she stood. "I hope you understand."

"You can't tell me anything more, can you? It would change things."

"That's right."

"You know what you're doing?"

"Yes."

He thought of all the damage he'd done, how much of it had been as a result of impulses, and how much had been planned. Carving out one's own destiny tended to cause misery, but he'd never had the benefit of forewarning as she seemed to. _Maybe she worked out some sort of deal with Yuuko. Maybe if she tells anyone, she won't be able to predict the outcome of what she's planning. _"Can you promise me something?"

Surprise danced in her eyes. "It depends."

"Don't disappear," he said. Old words. Words he'd said to another soul before, words he'd probably say again if they ever met.

Her lips parted slightly, as if some part of her recognized them. After a long moment, she looked away. "I can't promise that."

"Can you try?"

She hesitated. "If there's any way to avoid disappearing, then that's what I'll do. But I don't know if it's possible."

He nodded, trying to ignore the flutter of unease in his stomach. _Is it even possible to defy destiny? _he wondered as Sakura retreated into the hallway. _Or is everything Hitsuzen?_

* * *

"You'll be wheelchair-bound for a few weeks," Doctor Yamura said, as Kurogane signed the necessary paperwork to get him out of the hospital against medical advice. Syaoran said nothing, keeping his face empty but attentive. A broken knee. Of course he'd be wheelchair-bound. That was only to be expected. When he gave no indication of panicking, his doctor continued. "After that, you'll need crutches. You'll want to start coming in for regular physical therapy once it starts to heal, and we're giving you a list of instructions so you can do some of it at home. You'll still want to come back here regularly, to get the joint checked out. The good news is that your toes will heal much faster, and the lacerations on your upper body will only leave minor scarring, though you will always have a mark on the back of your hand." She glanced up from her clipboard, gauging his reaction.

Syaoran brushed his fingertips over the large rubber wheel attached to his chair. "I see."

"Given the circumstances, it might also be wise to invest in counseling or therapy, in order to deal with any psychological damage you may have sustained in your ordeal."

"I don't need therapy." _It's a__ little late for therapy, anyway.__  
_

"My professional opinion is that you should take the opportunity. There are plenty of support groups for those who have been abused as you have."

"I'm fine. Really." _And who'd believe me if I told them what lead up to this? They'd think I'm crazy. _"Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No." The doctor's voice softened. "Take care of yourself, Syaoran. It's okay to ask for help." Suddenly, her head snapped up, and she stood straighter as she focused in on Kurogane's face. "He's free to go, but he's going to need a lot of care. Take this pamphlet. It'll help you know what to expect for his recovery." She glanced between them, frowning, then sighed and walked away.

"Ready to head back?" Kurogane asked, grabbing the handles on the chair.

"Yes. I'd like to get things back to normal as soon as possible."

The ninja nodded and pushed his chair toward the doors at the front of the hospital. Syaoran shifted in his seat, leaning forward and glancing around for potential threats even as the winter breeze bit at his cheeks. Resolutely, he turned his face into the teeth of the wind. The cold pierced his skin like little needles, but at least it wasn't the stagnant air of the ICU or the musty scent of his tormentors' basement.

His hands tightened around the arm of his chair at the thought, and he closed his eyes, wishing he could somehow block out the images playing across his eyelids. Cassie lifting a glowing blade just before she cut him. Roret slamming a pipe against the side of his head in the alleyway. Jet breaking his knee like a branch for a campfire. Worse than the images were the smells—the iron tang of blood, the subtler metallic scent that hung over the basement, the sharp scent of bleach. _Another minute, and it could've been so much worse, _he thought, shuddering.

"Cold?"

His eyes flashed open. "Huh?"

Kurogane leaned forward, so Syaoran could see his looming over the back of his wheelchair. The ninja explained. "You're shivering. If that jacket's too thin, I'll lend you mine."

"No, I'm fine."

They reached an intersection, and Kurogane paused, waiting for the signal to change. The ninja's fingers wove through his hair. The touch was so unexpected, Syaoran went rigid. When Kurogane didn't withdraw, he relaxed. _It doesn't mean anything. He used to do this all the time when he was training my clone. _Still, he bowed his head, accepting the comfort, restricted though it was. After a moment, the light changed, and pedestrians filled the crosswalk. Syaoran folded his hands in his lap as they started moving again, ashamed at his reaction. The ninja had been pretty clear that they couldn't be together that way anymore. _I have to respect that, _he told himself, closing his eyes. _I can't keep reacting like this every time he comes near me. I can't keep hoping that things will go back to what they used to be. _

"What are you thinking about?" Kurogane asked as they turned onto the sidewalk that passed in front of their apartment building.

"Nothing important."

"Kid."

"Just—I'm thinking about the practicalities." He gestured to the cast on his leg. "Even with the chair, I won't be able to move around much, so . . ."

"So we'll move you to the living room, where we can take care of you."

He shook his head. "No, I mean . . ." A sigh escaped his throat. "I don't want to be a burden to anyone, but—"

"But there's no changing the fact that you will be."

He winced at the bluntness of that statement. Kurogane continued. "We'd take care of you even if you asked us not to, so don't bother apologizing for it." They reached the glass doors of the apartment building. Kurogane opened one door and held it in place with the side of his boot, pushing the wheelchair through the opening. Warm air escaped from the lobby into the entryway. The ninja steered him toward the steps and paused at the top, and without a word, Kurogane walked over to the side of the chair and scooped him up as if he weighed less than a toddler. Automatically, his hand reached out to grab the nearest stable object, which happened to be the ninja's arm. Half a second passed as he regained his bearings, and then he realized he'd latched onto the red-eyed man's bicep. Awkwardly, he let his hand fall onto his torso, his gaze straying to the wall in an effort to avoid meeting Kurogane's eyes.

"Hold still," the ninja grumbled. "And close your eyes."

He obeyed, accustomed to following orders, and felt his weight shift as Kurogane carried him down the steps leading to their subterranean apartment. When they reached the bottom, the ninja tapped the bottom of the door with his foot several times. "We're back. Open up."

A few seconds later, Syaoran heard the door swing open and opened his eyes. "Welcome back," Fai said, stepping around them and heading up the steps, probably to retrieve the wheelchair they'd abandoned there. "Everything go all right at the hospital?"

"Yeah. And here?"

"Great. Sakura-chan and I are making soup."

_Am I that easy to replace? _Syaoran wondered, thinking of the few days he'd spent baking with Fai. Then he shook his head, unwilling to believe he'd actually thought that.

There was a lot more to the world than baking cakes and making soup, after all.


	53. The Long Road Ahead

Chapter Fifty-Three

Syaoran ended up sleeping on the couch for most of that first week, a compromise he'd made with himself in order to reduce the amount of running back and forth between rooms for the others while sacrificing a bit of his privacy. Not that he needed much privacy at this point. Most of those first few days, he spent reading books from the library. He'd acquired a substantial stack of them before he'd been captured, and reading distracted him from the constant ache. After the third day, he decided to stop taking the painkillers Doctor Yamura had prescribed and just live with the pain.

Kurogane did not approve, though it took Syaoran two days to realize the ninja was slipping the medicine into his meals without telling him. It was when he overheard the ninja muttering to Fai about dinner that Syaoran first suspected something was amiss, though he tasted nothing in his leftover soup that night that indicated there was medicine inside. Truthfully, he'd half-expected this to happen, though he'd pegged Fai as the one who would suggest sneaking crushed up pain pills into his dinner. But as he pretended to nap one evening, he eavesdropped on a conversation between the two as they hovered over a pot of spaghetti sauce.

"Should we start cutting down the dosage?" Fai asked, as Syaoran strained to hear. Part of him wondered if either of them realized how much time he spent eavesdropping now that the conversations weren't muffled by the walls of his bedroom.

"Not yet," Kurogane said, keeping his voice just as low. "Maybe in a few days. Broken bones tend to hurt a lot longer than other kinds of injuries."

"Yes, but if he doesn't want pain relief, aren't we obligated to at least consider his wishes?"

"I considered them. He's going to take them whether he wants to or not."

Fai sighed and opened the refrigerator to retrieve something. Syaoran waited, listening. When the wizard spoke again, his voice was even softer. "I'm not sure it's the physical pain we should be worried about. What happened to him . . . it's not something that goes away. You drag the weight of that trauma wherever you go. Even if you forget it's there sometimes, it's always waiting, ready to grow heavy again."

His throat tightened, memories flickering through his mind. Blood and screams and pain. Those memories played over and over again, like a movie, except he couldn't leave the theater because he was strapped to his chair, head restrained so he couldn't face away from the screen. Fai was right—it wouldn't just go away. Not this.

His body felt heavier, as if the mention of dragging that weight with him had made those memories a physical presence.

"The kid's tough. He'll bounce back."

"A lot of people wouldn't."

"But he will."

He grimaced. Kurogane sounded so certain, as if his recovery was inevitable. Syaoran only wished he could feel so confident. Even though the fracture had been relatively minor, it would still take months for his knee to heal. Months he'd spend stuck in bed, unable to do even rudimentary tasks. Months of physical therapy to keep his joints from growing too stiff, and to keep his muscles from atrophying. And all that time, he'd be helpless if anything happened.

Bare feet padded from the kitchen to the living room, and he forced his body to relax. He'd been feigning sleep, after all—breaking cover now would only upset the others. After a few seconds, cold fingers nudged his arm. His eyelids flashed open to reveal Fai standing over the couch, a plate of spaghetti in hand. "Dinner's ready."

"Thank you," he murmured, shoulders slumping. They'd probably slipped his painkillers into the sauce so he wouldn't notice the bitter taste. Or perhaps, he reflected, they'd slipped them into the glass of orange juice Fai set on the coffee table. Either way, guilt kept him from rejecting the food on the basis of it being full of medicine. The others had still gone out of their way to take care of him. _Maybe I should just mention it to Kurogane when Fai goes to bed, _he thought, twirling his fork so the noodles wrapped around the end. When he took his first bite, he tasted a faint, medicinal bitterness. Definitely in the spaghetti, then. Resigned, he ate until his stomach swelled and set his plate on the coffee table. Without a word, Mokona hopped over and took the plate to the sink.

They were all taking care of him, but while he might've once appreciated it, now the attention felt stifling. They weren't helping him because they _wanted _to, they were helping him because he couldn't do anything to help himself. That had been part of the reason why he'd stopped taking the painkillers—they'd left him drowsy and muddled, further crippling his ability to take care of himself. He couldn't even _read_ with the medicine scrambling his thoughts.

"How are you feeling?" Fai asked, leaning over the arm of the couch.

Syaoran looked away, trying not to show anyone how miserable he felt. "Fine. Thanks for making dinner." _Again_.

"Sure." The magician smiled, patted his head, and headed into the bedroom he shared with Kurogane. Syaoran laid back, closing his eyes as he waited for the painkillers to take effect and rob him of his wits. While he waited, the aches of his body became more pronounced. The cuts on his chest, though mostly healed, felt like they were burning, and his broken knee throbbed with every heartbeat. He was almost relieved when the pain started to ebb, despite how much it dazed him. As the soreness abated, so too did his worries, and he slipped into a deep sleep.

* * *

Kurogane wandered around the apartment, alternating between staring at the muted TV and reorganizing cabinets he'd already sorted a dozen times since he'd found the kid. Sleep had grown rare for him, worry churning away in his gut as if he'd swallowed a bag of marbles, and despite years of frequent all-nighters, the weariness had started to weigh on him.

Exhausted, he stacked the final few cans of tomato sauce in the cupboard and walked over to the couch where the kid lay sleeping. He kept quiet, drawing on all his stealth skills to creep up to where Syaoran slept without waking the boy. In some ways, the kid's sleep cycles mirrored his own—fitful, uneasy periods of rest, interrupted by the softest disturbances. Not a healthy sleep cycle perhaps, but the ninja had to admire the constant alertness. Silent as a shadow, he took a seat at the edge of the couch, listening to the kid's breathing, reminding himself that as long as the boy still breathed, everything was fine.

Kurogane closed his own eyes, relaxing. The near-constant stress of the past few days slipped to the back of his mind, fatigue catching up to him at last as the apartment grew so quiet, he could hear his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

Time slipped away from him, and he fell into the most restful sleep he'd managed in days. Yet part of his mind remained alert, attuned to the sounds of the outside world. A whisper of sound yanked him from his sleep, and his hand wrapped around Souhi's hilt before his mind could catch up to his instincts. When nothing attacked after a few seconds, he relaxed and took stock of his surroundings. Everything seemed to be in its proper place, and the kid remained sleeping.

But not peacefully. Syaoran shifted in unconsciousness, hands tightening into fists as his eyebrows slanted downward. His head lolled to one side, blood seeping away from his face, leaving it pallid. A soft mewl escaped his throat as his features twisted in anguish.

"Kid?" Kurogane nudged the boy's shoulder, then jerked his hand back when Syaoran recoiled, lifting one arm to protect his face.

Anger surged through his body, spreading like poison through his bloodstream. _Damn it, _he thought, forcing himself to take a breath. _I should've killed those bastards for what they did to him. _

On the couch, Syaoran's nightmare continued, his quiet moans increasing in frequency and volume. A pair of tears slipped down his tanned cheeks, his cast scraping against the edge of the couch as he curled up. Pain shot across his face, his breath coming faster. His fists trembled.

Kurogane leaned over the edge of the couch, shaking the kid's shoulder. "Wake up. Come on." _Wake up. Just wake up. That's the only way to stop the nightmares. _His hands tensed. After his parents had been killed, Kurogane had spent months avoiding sleep as much as possible, just to keep the nightmares at bay. It had been cowardly, stupid, the sort of thing only an idiot or a kid would do. Sleep deprivation only lowered your ability to fight off _real _danger. Even as a child, he'd known that. But back then, it hadn't seemed weak, it had seemed necessary.

Abruptly, Syaoran's body went still, eyes flashing open. Lines of red criss-crossed the sclera of both eyes, and a thin film of saltwater magnified each burst blood vessel. The kid stared at him for a long moment, too stunned to say a word, then turned his face away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry."

A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. "What the hell for?"

Syaoran didn't meet his gaze. "I woke you up."

"You were having a nightmare."

"Even so—"

"Don't. You don't have to apologize for something out of your control."

The kid's body sagged, falling limp over the couch cushions as his eyes glazed over. "Kurogane-san . . . Can I ask you something?"

He braced himself—things seldom turned out well when a conversation opened with that question. "What?"

"Have you and Fai-san been slipping my painkillers into my meals?"

The question derailed him for a moment—he'd expected something related to their previous relationship, or something morbid—so it took him a moment to answer. "Yeah, we have. You need to take your medicine."

"I'd rather have the pain."

"That's stupid."

Syaoran's eyes darted to the cast on his leg. "I know. Of course I know that, but . . . I don't know how to describe it. I don't feel _real _when I take the medicine. It's like my mind is slipping away, and I can't _think_."

"It's only temporary. And you're going to take those pills even if I have to shove them down your throat."

Syaoran shuddered, looking away. "I miss you."

_Wow, maybe the pills really _are _screwing with his head. _He sighed. "You don't have to say it."

"I have to say something. The others are sleeping now. They haven't really left the apartment since . . ." He trailed off, horror shooting across his face. "They haven't left me alone for days. I haven't had much of a chance to talk to you alone."

_This conversation can't end well. _"All right, spit it out. What do you need to say?"

"I trust you."

"Okay. And?"

"I'm not strong," Syaoran whispered, so quietly that Kurogane strained to hear it. "I used to think I was, that I could endure anything, but . . ." His breath quaked, and he shuddered. "I feel like I'm drowning, or falling, and I won't be able to pull through this. And I'm scared." His eyes budded with tears, and Kurogane realized just how much it was costing the kid to even admit to that fear.

With a sigh, he stood up and lifted the kid into a sitting position, moving between him and the edge of the couch. From there, he pulled the boy onto his lap. Syaoran froze, looking up at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"Go to sleep," Kurogane said shortly. "I'll kill anything that tries to hurt you."

The strangest look crossed the kid's face, but after a moment, he relaxed, rolling onto his side so his cheek rested just above Kurogane's knee. He ran his fingers through the kid's hair, letting his hand rest there as Syaoran went limp. "Thanks."

"Yeah," the ninja murmured, closing his eyes. "No problem."


	54. Three-Flavor Ice Cream

Chapter Fifty-Four

Fai woke the same way he always did—blearily, with little desire to crawl out of bed except for the small part of his mind intent on cooking breakfast. For a few minutes, he lay sprawled across the sheets, face embedded in his pillowcase. The usual nightmares had been absent, and rather than recalling memories of that tower or of his fingernails bending back against the stone walls, the only thing Fai remembered was the empty blackness that had swallowed him like a thick blanket.

Not wanting to risk slipping back into unconscious to where he was vulnerable to the nightmares, Fai sat up and stretched, joints popping as he rolled over the edge of the bed and plopped onto the floor. When he saw Kurogane's bed, pillow smooth, sheets pulled into their proper place, he paused. _Did he already wake up? __Or did he never go to sleep?_

He frowned, a wrinkle of worry forming on his forehead before he remembered that he'd been trying to distance himself from the others. True, he hadn't intended his aloofness to come off as so cold that it drove others away, but he didn't know what other kind of front he could put up. _They must hate you, _whispered that insidious voice in the back of his mind. _Why else would Syaoran wander off on his own, except to get away from you? You can see it, can't you? That he hates you so much he'd rather sit alone in his room than talk to you._

Fai shook off the thoughts, physically _shivered_ to make them fall away. Air whistled down his throat, lungs filling out as he tried to think only of the present moment. Not about how he'd failed Syaoran-kun, or how dismal the situation had become as a result. Not about the secrets that glittered in Sakura's eyes, even though she spent more time with him than any of the others. Not about the primal hunger circulating through his body, making his veins feel cracked and dry. Certainly not that.

It had been over a week since he'd fed, and though he _knew _Kurogane would let him drink, even _make _him drink, Fai couldn't bring himself to ask. Not after this week.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and stepping out of his room. His eyes went to the clock on the wall—ten A.M., he noted—then to the kitchen, where a stack of unwashed pots and pans sat by the sink. A rare occurrence, given that there was little for them to do in this city apart from attending chess matches and shopping. And given recent events, Fai wasn't especially inclined to leave the apartment.

His sharpened senses picked up on a pair of heartbeats. _Did Kurogane sleep out here? _he wondered, walking over to the couch. When he saw Syaoran's head resting on the ninja's lap, he raised an eyebrow.

"Nightmares," the ninja explained quietly, hand stroking Syaoran's hair back, away from his face. The boy didn't stir, too deeply asleep to surface at such a light touch. The gesture rooted Fai to where he stood. Had he walked into another dimension? Distant as he'd been in the last few months, he hadn't been keeping tabs on his companions, not even to gauge how much they'd pieced together from his vague allusions to Ceres. Had he missed some shift in the ninja's personality, or had that casual tenderness always been there? And if it had, how had he missed it?

_No, _he thought. _Things have changed. The old Kurogane would've been more likely to tell Syaoran that nightmares didn't matter._

The muscles in his face tugged his lips up into a smile. To think that nightmares had no significance . . . it was ridiculous, unfathomable. Fai knew that. Lived with it. Endured his own vivid nightmares because without them, there would've been no way to differentiate between the all-consuming void of unconsciousness and that of dreams. Because it had been a long time since he'd had a good dream.

A long, long time.

* * *

He'd known it was a mistake right from the moment he'd laid his head on Kurogane's lap. And knowing that hadn't stopped him from doing it anyway.

Syaoran woke, gradually at first, like sensation returning to fingers numbed by cold, then all at once, as it he'd plunged those frozen extremities in warm water. One eyelid twitched, then the other, and then his eyes flashed open, artificial light assaulting his pupils before they could adjust.

And then he closed his eyes again, hoping Kurogane hadn't noticed him stir. He wanted to prolong the moment, the _mistake_, no matter how much it was going to hurt in the end.

A warm, familiar pressure covered the side of his head, a sensation he recognized from previous encounters as the weight of the ninja's hand. At first, he thought Kurogane had fallen asleep, but then the weight shifted, fingers curling in his hair. Syaoran forced his breathing to remain slow, despite the acceleration of his heart. He remembered the heat of hands moving across his skin, the electricity of those forbidden touches, the desperation with which he'd clung to the ninja afterward, but this was different. Not an intimate touch, but more than friendly comfort. He laid there, trying to isolate the strange emotion building in his chest, like relief and warmth blended together then tinged with sadness.

Yes, he knew this had been a mistake. But would anyone really blame him, if he feigned sleep a few moments more, if he allowed himself to take comfort in an echo of the intimacy he'd experienced before?

Behind him, a door creaked open. The hand on his head tensed and relaxed as Kurogane heard the creak and then dismissed it. A moment later, the faint padding of footsteps over cement clued him in to someone's approach. Fai, he decided. Sakura's limp would've made her steps less even, and louder.

The footsteps stopped a few feet beside him. Syaoran kept his eyes closed, wondering what Fai thought of his unusual position. After a moment, Kurogane spoke, his voice soft, but carrying as it always did. "Nightmares."

Fai made a noise of understanding, and Syaoran felt the ninja's hand move down the side of his head, pulling his hair away from his face. Silence filled the apartment like a symphony playing background music for a movie. After almost a minute, Fai spoke. "I suppose breakfast can wait a while."

"Yeah, sure."

Syaoran heard the whisper of Fai's retreating footsteps, still feigning sleep even when he heard the bathroom door open and close. He waited, expecting Kurogane to call him on his ruse, accuse him of eavesdropping, but the ninja said nothing, only moving to trap a stray lock of hair between his thumb and index finger and push it out of the way.

* * *

Kurogane knew the kid was awake. Perhaps it was the subtle shift between dead weight and attentiveness or the slight increase in temperature that gave it away, or perhaps he just _knew_. But he stayed still, letting the moment linger. Comfort was useless for someone who was unconscious, and Kurogane had no reason to engage in such useless acts, but the last thing he wanted was to move away now and upset the kid.

Besides, there was something soothing about having someone be so relaxed this close to him. Even more so because this time, he'd been the one to put the kid at ease. To comfort. To care.

It felt like a foreign concept. In Nihon, he'd narrowed his talents to fighting and . . . well, pretty much fighting and killing. Even in this journey, where every world had forced him to become more versatile, he'd never expected _comfort _to be anywhere on his list of things to excel at. For months now, he'd been fumbling with how to comfort others—primarily the kid, since he was the most resistant—but now, sitting here with the boy feigning sleep on his lap, Kurogane figured he'd learned enough. It didn't matter how strong a person was; everyone needed someone to rely on.

His hand tensed as he heard the bedroom door swing open behind him. His head whipped around, his body preparing for a fight even as logic told him it was only the mage. Still, he remained alert until Fai met his gaze and started toward him.

_He's going to see, _Kurogane thought suddenly, eyes darting back to the boy. Syaoran stayed limp, either not noticing or not reacting to the sudden tension. _Shit. Moving him now will make this look worse than it is, but I can't just stay like this. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit. _

Fai came around the edge of the couch then, and Kurogane forced himself to relax, to act as it everything was normal. When the mage arched an eyebrow, he grit his teeth and looked down at the kid. "Nightmares," he said, trying to make the word sound like an explanation instead of an excuse.

"Ah." The mage's eyes clouded over, and he shuffled back. A fleeting, genuine smile crossed his lips, then morphed into a grin that was too cheerful for this time of day. "I suppose breakfast can wait a while."

He grit his teeth, hoping he was imagining the knowing tone of the wizard's voice. The last thing he needed was for the idiot to think he was _enjoying _being a pillow. Even if it was true. Even if his desire to keep the kid from feeling rejected outweighed his desire to extricate himself from this situation. Even if a small part of him wished the kid would stop pretending to sleep and lie in his lap just for the hell of it.

Damn.

"Yeah, sure," he murmured, dismissing the magician in the most casual way possible. He weaved his fingers through the kid's hair, pretending this was normal, sane, or any variation thereof. After a moment, Fai drifted off, wandering back to the bedroom Kurogane hadn't slept in last night. And damn it all if he couldn't picture that blond bastard grinning as he went.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_So, I decided to include some general information about this chapter, as I did vary the style somewhat. The chapter is titled "Three-Flavor Ice Cream" because I included a POV section from each of the three main guys(sorry to any Sakura fans out there. I do like Sakura, but I have a lot of trouble writing in her POV, and she's not usually that relevant to my stories anyway). The story title, _Shatterheart,_ has no relevance to anything at all, in case you were wondering. I borrowed the title from a powerful magical attack in Final Fantasy XII because I am a geek and I do stuff like that. Anyway, back to the current chapter: I'd like to note that all three POV shifts took place over the same time period, just with differing perspectives. I did it partly as a character exercise, and partly because it was fun. So that's why the events of this chapter repeat several times, in case that wasn't clear._

_On another note, I'm attempting NaNoWriMo(National Novel Writing Month) this year, so I'm trying to write 50,000 words of original work over the month of November. Which isn't really relevant to this fic at all, since I've got enough pre-written chapters to keep regular updates until then, but I'm including this information here so you'll know why(among many other reasons) I haven't updated my other Tsubasa fic(_Reversal of Fate_) in months. Which is also not relevant to this fic, but if you've read that story and you're waiting for an update, I promise I will get to it once NaNoWriMo is done. You can send me angry messages and hate mail if I don't. In fact, that would probably help motivate me, as I am quite defensive in some cases and will sometimes write entire character arcs in fan fics to appease my complaining reviewers(not that anyone's complained yet. But you people should start complaining! My failure to update that fic is completely inexcusable!) So, anyway, that's the end of my excuse-riddled, rambling author's note. Thanks for reading!_


	55. The Dam Bursts

Chapter Fifty-Five

The worst part about having a broken knee was having to rely on the others for things that had seemed so trivial before.

Syaoran struggled to wash his hands and face because being wheelchair-bound made him too short to reach the sink. He had to use the bathtub when he wanted to do either. He could barely see the top of his head in the mirror when he sat up to fix his hair. When he had to go to the bathroom, he needed a basin, which he then emptied into the toilet. And of course, it was nearly impossible to climb from the couch to his chair by himself. He'd tried the third day, when Fai had deemed him healthy enough to try moving on his own. Halfway between the couch and the chair, the wheels had turned half a rotation and the chair had slipped away from him. He'd landed on his back, scraping his elbows on the cement floor. The cast on his leg had followed, and when after it hit the ground, the pain had left him paralyzed for almost ten minutes before he allowed Kurogane to pull him back onto the couch.

It had been three weeks since then, and the others hadn't let him move from the couch to his chair without supervision. Not once.

The only positive side to this was that at least now everyone was talking to him. Even Sakura, clunking around in her leg brace as an omnipresent reminder that things could've been worse, came out of her room to see him. "Fai-san and I made soup," she said one morning, holding out a blue bowl. The smell of chicken and spices rose from the dish. "Do you want some?"

"Sure."

She stepped forward and lowered the bowl so it sat on his lap. Syaoran pulled it closer, sitting up a little. "Thanks," he murmured, holding the spoon delicately and raising it to his lips. Warm broth and bits of celery flowed across his tongue, and a pang shot through him as memories of an older, simpler life flashed through his mind. Chicken soup. Sakura fussing over him. Being able to reach the sink at will. He only wished things were less complicated so that he might enjoy the companionship more.

Yes, the best thing about being injured was getting to see Sakura on a regular basis. But it still hurt. Deep down, buried beneath the spark of happiness her appearance gave him, it hurt a lot.

The days crept by. Except for his home world and Clow, he'd never spent so much time in one dimension. Yet still, he felt like a foreigner, an unwelcome presence. This attention and care was fleeting, a direct result of his inability to live for himself. Because he was helpless.

"Can you help me into my chair?" he asked a few days later, when all that remained of the chicken soup were a few dirty dishes in the kitchen sink. Kurogane, being the closest, walked over without a word and pulled his wheelchair over to the front of the couch, so he could slide off the cushions and into the seat. The ninja held onto the back of the chair, stabilizing it so it wouldn't roll away, as Syaoran laid his injured leg on the raised extension and maneuvered himself into the seat. Even practiced, the shift took nearly half a minute, and by the time he'd secured himself in place, a sheen of sweat had formed over his face and neck from the exertion.

"Where to?" Kurogane asked.

"Just the bathroom. I can make it there on my own."

The ninja stepped back, allowed Syaoran to wheel himself toward the bathroom. Once inside, Kurogane closed the door behind him. "Call if you need anything."

Syaoran said nothing, but his throat constricted, and it took him a few minutes to collect himself. This was routine. A pathetic, inconvenient routine, but still. He went through the motions, collecting his basin from beneath the sink. Though he rinsed it often, the scent of bodily fluids still rose from the basin when he picked it up. Grimacing, he dealt with the most pressing concerns, every step frustratingly complicated for what had once been a simple task.

When he was finished, he poured the waste into the toilet, rinsed the basin out using the bathtub faucet, flushed it all down, and rinsed everything again for good measure. He washed his hands in the bathtub, since he couldn't reach the sink, and let the water run, pulling his chair up to the edge of the tub. Several minutes went by, water gushing from the spigot like a waterfall at the edge of a canyon. Syaoran ran his hands under the lukewarm water, mind drifting back to the ruins of Clow, where he'd first encountered his Sakura. Where, in the space of a week, he'd fallen in love with her. Where fountains had been embedded in the walls, flowing constantly, prospering with life-sustaining water.

The ruins of Clow, where everything had started.

He sat there for a long time, barely cognizant of the soothing hiss of running water. After a while, he sighed and slid out of his chair, moving carefully to avoid jamming his broken knee when his cast hit the ground. Almost half a minute passed as he tried to find a comfortable sitting position. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the bathroom floor was linoleum, not cement. Not soft like carpet, but it didn't leach heat from his body as readily as cement did. And, unlike the rest of the apartment, this floor didn't remind him of that basement, where those monsters had cut into him again and again and again.

Syaoran took a deep breath, pressed his cheek against the edge of the bathtub, and listened to the rushing water. Imagined lying in the bathtub, cast propped up so it didn't get soaked, and just tilting his head back as the warm water rushed over his chest, his face. Imagined opening his mouth and taking a deep breath. Maybe struggling a little, purely by instinct, as the water rushed into his lungs. Maybe wondering if he'd been wrong, maybe even regretting it, in those last moments, as he drowned.

There were worse ways to die.

Instead, he just sat there, face pressed against the side of the tub, chair pushed off to the side. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to come in and see him like this, ask why the water had been on so long. He wondered which of his companions would find him if he drowned, how they'd react. If they'd heal or if they'd be traumatized. If, in the end, his life meant anything to them at all.

Syaoran took a deep breath, surprised to hear how it shook, and then another, the tremor more noticeable. Blood flowed from his lower lip as he bit into it, trying to stifle the pathetic sobs building at the back of his throat. He'd never been this weak before. Crying was reserved only for those situations that merited tears. He wasn't weak, he _wasn't, _he was just . . . tired. He wanted to sleep, wanted to have an excuse to hold his head under the water and just breathe in. But he wasn't weak enough to try. Or maybe he wasn't strong enough.

Another sob tore free of his throat, swallowed up by the sound of rushing water. Too much. The wheelchair, the cast, the inability to make it to the _bathroom_ without help—the sheer force of his helplessness crashed against him like a wave crashing against the shore. He folded his arms over the edge of the tub and buried his face in them, his lower back cramping from his awkward position. For a while, he fought against the torrent of emotion, forcing it back behind whatever walls he could build up. But it overflowed, sobs ripping from his chest for the first time since he'd been chained up in that basement. And this time, his voice wasn't hoarse from screaming.

A few minutes passed before he heard a knock on the door. "Kid, you all right? You've been in there a long time."

He froze, the sobs cutting off instantly. His fingers coiled around the edge of the tub, the water still running, flowing down the drain despite the frequent clogs in the pipes. For a moment, he sat there, unsure if he should feign nonchalance. But if he tried to talk, Kurogane would hear the wavering in his voice, would know he'd been crying, so Syaoran stayed silent, staring at the water as it drained away only to be replaced by more from the spigot.

"Kid?"

Syaoran swallowed, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. His breathing hitched only once, and then he leaned over the side of the tub and let his mind drift, ignoring the pounding of the door, the increasingly-frantic demands for a response. Just leaned forward and let his hair hang over the edge, growing damp as steam flowed over it.

"I'm coming in." The doorknob squeaked, and the warped door scraped against its wooden frame. He felt the ninja approaching, his mind automatically cataloging the man's movements. "Kid, what the hell? Didn't you hear me yelling?"

"No," he lied. "I guess not."

"Why are you just letting the water run like that? Why the _hell _are you out of your chair?"

He stared at the water, not speaking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Damn it, kid, don't you . . . Kid?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you," Syaoran murmured, not even sure if the ninja heard him.

"Is he all right?" Fai asked, peering in through the doorway.

"He's fine. I'll deal with him. Tell the princess not to worry."

The magician disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Kurogane closed the door and walked over to the tub. With a sharp, frustrated motion, he twisted the knob controlling the faucet. The stream of water guttered down to a trickle before finally stopping. And still, Syaoran's gaze remained on the miniature whirlpool circling the drain.

Kurogane rested a hand on his back, kneeling down beside him. "Why aren't you in your chair?" he asked again, his voice softer than before. Syaoran shrugged. The hand on his back tensed, then relaxed. "Then what was with the running water?"

Again, he shrugged.

"Kid . . . Syaoran."

He winced, his eyes flashing to the ninja's face, then away as he remembered he'd been crying. Shameful. Weak. Pathetic. And still, all he wanted to do was run away.

Kurogane sighed, wrapping an arm around his chest and pulling him back so the back of his head rested on the ninja's collarbone. "You okay?"

He opened his mouth to say he was fine. Just fine. That there was nothing wrong at all. Then he said, "No. I'm not okay."

"Good."

His head snapped up. "Huh?"

The arm around his torso tightened. "I've been waiting for you to say that. I never thought you'd admit it."

Curiosity bubbled up in his throat, loosening the sudden tension there. A shaky breath escaped his lungs, and he slumped against the ninja's chest, eyes burning as if they'd been filled with shards of glass. "I don't understand. Why . . ."

"Because you needed to say it, and you weren't going to start getting better until you did."

"But I . . . Isn't that weak?"

"It's better than thinking you can live with the lie. Now, come on. Let's get you back in your chair."

"Kurogane-san . . ."

The ninja arched an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He considered telling the man about how he'd imagined sinking under the water, how he'd let that idea bounce around in his head. Then he set it aside. It was too shameful. "Thank you," he finally said. _Thanks for checking in. _


	56. Shatterheart

Chapter Fifty-Six

It had been the look in the kid's eyes that had gotten to him. That look, right when Kurogane had called him by name, that played over and over again on the backs of his eyelids as he tried to sleep that night.

Kurogane rolled onto his side, staring into the darkness. In the bed across the room, the mage snored, head buried so deep in the pillow that Kurogane wondered how he'd managed to avoid smothering himself. The ninja's eyes had adjusted to the dark hours ago, when he'd _intended_ to go to bed, which meant his gaze pierced the darkness with a too-familiar clarity. Each crack in the walls looked like a dark crevasse in the sea of white, and the floral patterns on the ratty sheets stood in sharp definition. Yet he didn't see it, didn't register these details, because all he could see was the kid's face. The way he'd winced. The flicker of suppressed hope. The reddish tinge circling his eyes that could've only come from tears.

A mistake. Calling the kid by name had been a mistake. Pulling the boy into his arms, comforting him without setting the record straight—that was another mistake. A lapse. _I can't do this fucking balancing act anymore. _He flung the covers off and stalked over to the door. He yanked it open, wincing at the way it squeaked, then glanced back at the mage. Fai didn't stir.

More cautious now, he eased the door shut behind him and walked into the living room, his footsteps silent over the cement. The boy would be sleeping on the couch, as he had been ever since he'd come back from the hospital. Kurogane ghosted over to where he expected the kid to be, then let out a soft sigh when he saw the boy lying on his side, arms curled up by his head, conserving warmth.

Kurogane picked up the cotton blanket the kid had wriggled out of in the night, pulling it up to cover the boy's torso. The kid remained limp, ignorant of the change. With his features relaxed in unconsciousness, he looked almost peaceful.

He considered his options. As things stood now, comforting the boy earlier had been a mistake. But it didn't have to be. If things changed, if they moved back into a territory where that kind of comfort was not only acceptable, but expected, then it would go from a lapse in judgment to an expression of . . . what, exactly? Affection? Acceptance?

Love?

Kurogane fidgeted. Just thinking about love grated on his sensibilities. But he knew the kid well enough to know he needed more than simple acceptance. Drawing the line there would be too easy, and it had failed more than once already. Repeating the same thing and expecting different results would be ludicrous.

Or, if he stopped acting on those impulses to comfort the kid, what then? It would distance them. That was obvious. It would also cut away the tenuous trust that had formed between them since he and the mage had found Syaoran in that basement. Worse, he couldn't predict how that fissure would damage the boy. Even before those bastards had spent sixteen hours torturing the kid, things had gone sour between them. _Which was your own damn fault, _he thought to himself. _You pushed him away. You broke it off. Now look what happened. _

Kurogane dragged a hand through his hair. Damn, this stuff was complicated. _Come on. Think like a rational person. There's no way anything like that could work out in the long-term. And it would hurt him in the end. Hurt him because it would hurt the princess. It's impossible. _

He stood, pacing in front of the couch, then looping around it, hands balled into fists. After several passes, he paused and looked again at the boy. Syaoran hadn't moved, too deep in sleep to even stir. Considering it was past three A.M., that wasn't surprising.

His mind flickered back to that moment by the bathtub. He hadn't even meant to call the kid by name. Not really. But the boy had looked so broken in that instant that Kurogane had lapsed back into an old habit. Inexcusable, he reminded himself. A mistake.

But he'd do anything to keep the boy from looking like that again. Even if no one else would ever understand. Even if it could never work out between them long-term. So, maybe, if it made things better . . .

He shook his head. He'd never been this indecisive in Nihon. Fighting was easy. It came as naturally to him as breathing. But caring for someone, wanting to spare them pain . . . It threw him off.

Frustrated, he knelt in front of the couch and rested his chin on the cushions, studying the kid's face. The tiny shifts in his features fascinated him, as if he was watching the boy's dreams play out. Eyebrows drawing together. Nose twitching. Lips settling into a frown. Once in a while, his whole body would shift, surfacing from the deepest throes of sleep and into a more aware state. And then he'd relax again, his breathing evening out, slowing. Almost peaceful.

Kurogane took a deep breath, considered his options, then leaned against the side of the couch. _If _he went through with this, it wouldn't end well. Couldn't. They'd have to keep it a secret, and ultimately, all he'd be doing was distracting the kid from the girl he loved. And if the mage or the princess found out, any semblance of trust would vanish.

Kurogane wasn't sure their group could survive any more major upheavals now. Everyone was still bleeding from Tokyo, but their fragmented relationships were _finally _starting to come together again. If he fucked that up over something doomed to fail . . . How would he live with that? How did anyone live with it?

_No._ _Only a coward stops moving forward in fear of what comes tomorrow._ _Being trapped in the same situation and doing nothing about it was the worst kind of weakness because it means you refuse to move forward. And I am not weak._

He looked back at the kid, still asleep. Then, closing his eyes, he muttered a curse. Fuck it. There was no way to predict tomorrow's disasters or next week's problems. He'd face the consequences whenever they came. But things were going to change, starting tomorrow.

* * *

Syaoran woke feeling more rested than he'd felt since before he'd been captured. No nightmares. A cessation from pain. It was a small mercy, but he'd take it.

"Morning," Kurogane said. Syaoran blinked, his vision only coming into focus when he saw the ninja stand next to him. As the grogginess faded, curiosity sparked in his mind.

"Didn't you sleep?"

The ninja glanced down at him, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, some. You?"

His hands curled around the edge of the blanket. "Better than I have been."

"That's good." The man's red eyes flickered to his face, and he looked away. After a moment, Kurogane crouched next to the couch and laid his palm across Syaoran's forehead, smoothing his hair back. Heat rushed to his face, and he closed his eyes, embarrassment deepening the pink tint in his cheeks. Hope threatened to drown him, memories of their more intimate moments flashing through his mind. _It doesn't mean anything, _he told himself. _He's probably just checking for a fever or something. Maybe I look sick. _

Kurogane's hand moved down the side of his face, fingertips tracing the line of his cheekbone, then skimming the side of his neck. Syaoran gulped, shifting away. "Kurogane-san . . ."

The ninja sat back, withdrawing his hand. His shoulders settled into straight lines, his shirt unwrinkled despite him having apparently spent the night in it. _He didn't sleep, then, _Syaoran thought. _Or if he did, he slept sitting up. _His chest tightened with guilt. "You don't have to go out of your way to make me comfortable."

His eyebrows slanted down as he snorted. "Don't be stupid. If you need help, I'm going to help you. You don't have any say in it."

_I don't have much say in anything, do I? _Saying nothing, he glanced away.

Kurogane sighed. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"You and I . . ." Kurogane sucked in a sharp breath, then exhaled through his teeth. "Look, I'm not great at this whole dealing with people thing, so . . . You want to go back to the way things were?"

Panic shot through his veins like ice water, overpowering the surge of hope. Because surely he'd misunderstood—Kurogane couldn't mean going back to their previous arrangement, could he? He'd been the one who'd broken it off the first time. _Unless he thinks it'll help me feel better about what happened. _The thought twisted through his gut like a hot knife. The inside of his throat pinched together as if someone had sprayed lemon juice down his trachea. _That has to be the reason. He thinks I can't deal with this on my own, so he's trying to fix things this way. _When he inhaled, he heard the tremor in his own breath. "The way things were?"

"You know. Before." Kurogane jerked his chin toward the cast on his leg.

Syaoran sat up, trying to put up a more solid front. Control. He had to stay in control of himself. "You'd only be doing it because you're trying to make things easier for me."

"I'm not."

"Prove it."

Kurogane stiffened at the challenge in his voice, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Prove it?"

"You only ever did it because I couldn't stand on my own. I don't need crutches anymore."

The ninja's voice whipped out, low and harsh. "That's strange, coming from someone who can't walk."

The reminder of his broken knee made him flinch. His shoulders curled inward, as if he could shield himself from the impact of those words. Yet they still got in, still sliced him open and left him bleeding again. The back of his throat tightened, the tang of sorrow washing across his taste buds. He was so close to tears, and just as helpless to hold them back as he'd been when he'd tried to hold back his screams in that basement. Even now, his vision swam, shapes blurring together like figures in a watercolor painting. If he could've walked, he'd have fled. Instead, all he could do was hide his face behind his arms.

"Kid?"

He shook his head, rejecting the sympathy in that voice, the unspoken apology. When Kurogane nudged his shoulder, he flinched from the touch.

Quietly, the ninja spoke. "Do you want me to leave?"

The words froze him in place, echoing in his mind. "Leave?"

"I'll go. If you want me to, I'll go. However much time you need, you can have it."

"Time for what?"

"To _think_. This—" He lowered his voice, glancing around. "This probably seem like it's coming out of nowhere for you. I've been thinking about it. I just wanted to know if you . . ." The sentence evaporated, and a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. After a moment, his eyelids slid open again. "Fuck. This isn't how this conversation was supposed to go."

Syaoran cocked his head to the side. "Supposed to . . . How long have you been thinking about this?"

"All night. Shit." He dragged his hand through his hair, standing up. "I don't know how to do this, all right?" He started to move away, shoulders rigid.

Syaoran reached out and caught his wrist, holding him in place. Kurogane's arm stiffened, and his eyes flashed to his face as if in annoyance. Syaoran shrunk back, but didn't let go. "I don't want you to leave. But I don't . . ." He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Things have been bad lately. I don't want them to get worse."

"You're scared."

Syaoran looked away, wishing he could deny it. But he'd been burned too many times over the past few weeks. He couldn't let anyone kick his legs out from under him. Not now. "I just don't want this to end badly."

"It won't."

"You can't promise that."

"I'm going to, anyway: this _won't _end badly. I will _always _protect you." Fire danced in his eyes, the same fire Syaoran had seen when he'd beaten Jet to a bloody pulp in that basement, but without the rage. "You know that. I know you do."

"Yes, but . . . The others . . ."

"Forget them."

"They would never—"

"It's none of their damn business!" Kurogane exhaled sharply, regaining control of himself. "Do you want to, or not?"

His heart hammered against his ribs, lips tingling with remembered sensation. "Yes."

"Good." Kurogane leaned forward, fingers tugging on Syaoran's hair and pulling his face forward. He gasped, spine going rigid as if a cold gust of air had raked its fingers across his back. As his lips parted, he felt the man's tongue probing at his bottom lip. He leaned back automatically, trying to regain control of his lungs, his lips, anything, but Kurogane captured his mouth again, the kiss fierce, demanding.

A familiar pressure grew between his thighs. "Kurogane-san—"

"Are you changing your mind?"

"No, it's . . ." Warmth flooded his cheeks as he looked down at his shorts.

"Been awhile, huh?"

He nodded, throat closing with embarrassment. "Should we stop?"

"No." Callused fingertips traced the skin of his good leg, starting at his knee and moving up. A moan escaped his throat, his hands seeking something to grab onto. He latched onto Kurogane's shirt and pulled the man closer, hips twitching with the heat, the pressure. Their lips flowed together like converging streams of magma.

Syaoran didn't hear the door swinging open, or the startled gasp from behind him. Only when Fai's voice whipped out did reality come crashing down.

"What are you _doing?_"


	57. Awkward Explanations

Chapter Fifty-Seven

"What are you _doing_?"

The words sliced through Syaoran's heart like a sword, plunging him into frigid reality. His head snapped up, eyes flying open as Kurogane jerked back, yanking his hand away from Syaoran's thigh.

Silence pressed on his eardrums like molten lead, interrupted only by the _tick _of the clock. Syaoran looked over to see Fai standing at the edge of the living room, his single eye so wide, it looked like a dinner plate. That eye flickered between him and the ninja towering over him, as if Fai couldn't comprehend what he'd just seen.

A curious numbness spread through his mind, heavier than the pain medications the doctors had prescribed him. He sank into the cushions, body detaching from his brain. His thoughts spun in lazy circles, the horror of getting caught not quite piercing the veil of shock. Only when Fai repeated his query did Syaoran start to surface. "What are you two doing? What . . . are you . . ." The magician's voice trembled, mouth opening and closing as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"Don't—" Kurogane began, but then Fai started shouting over him.

"Explain! What is _this_? What have you been _doing_ to him? How could you . . ." He faltered, staggering forward, then leaning against the side of the couch for support. "What is _wrong _with you?"

Kurogane stiffened, fists shaking. "Keep your voice down. We can explain everything."

"He's what?" Fai pointed, and Syaoran flinched from his finger as if he'd been stabbed. "Fourteen? Fifteen? And you? Twenty-seven, twenty-eight? How could you possibly explain this?"

"Mage—"

"Get out."

Kurogane blinked, as if he hadn't understood the command. _Or as if didn't think Fai could use __that tone, _Syaoran thought numbly, watching as the ninja rocked back on his heels. His expression shifted to disbelief. "What?"

Fai stepped forward, claws sliding out as his eye yellowed. "You heard me. Get out. Get away from him."

"Like hell I will!"

"_Now_."

Fai's earlier words started to sink in. _"He's what? Fourteen? Fifteen? And you?" _Cold and unforgiving, like a glacier crushing everything in its path and molding the earth itself into new shapes. Horror slid down Syaoran's spine as the implication of those questions hit him. For so long, he'd been justifying the age difference because of his time trapped in a tube. It had become a non-issue.

But Fai didn't know that. He only knew what this _looked _like, and it _looked_ pretty awful. He started to stand, then realized his cast wouldn't allow him to. Instead, he leaned forward, sitting up tall, until his lower back started to ache. "Fai-san, wait. You don't understand. He's not—"

"You don't have to defend him, Syaoran-kun." Fai took another step forward, until he was only a foot away from Kurogane. The ninja held his ground, raising his chin half an inch. Fai's arm whipped out, catching the red-eyed man in the ribs. Kurogane doubled over, eyes going wide. "Get out," the vampire said, blood running down his nails. Syaoran looked down to see the splotch of red blossoming on Kurogane's shirt.

"No, don't!" Syaoran reached out, trying to put himself between the pair. Kurogane's eyes flashed down to his arm.

"Kid—"

"Both of you, stop," he begged. "Let's just sit down and discuss this."

"And then what?" Kurogane demanded.

Syaoran hesitated, thrown off-balance by the question. The others waited for his answer, fuming; he looked away. "The truth."

The ninja's fists tightened, knuckles turning white, and Syaoran sensed the older man was dreading this conversation just as much as he was. But after a moment, his fists loosened and he stepped back. "What are we going to do about the princess? I can't imagine you want her to hear this."

"No, but . . . No, you're right."

Fai interrupted. "I want to talk to each of you alone first. No arguments." His golden eye flickered to Kurogane, narrowing. _If looks could kill . . . _Syaoran thought, fidgeting.

"I'll be on the roof," Kurogane said after a moment. "Kid, you okay with talking to him first?"

Syaoran nodded. Better to get it over with before Sakura woke and started poking around the kitchen looking for breakfast.

A moment later, he heard a rustling by the door as Kurogane pulled on his coat and slipped into his shoes. Fai stood rigid until the front door closed, then relaxed, taking a spot on the couch beside Syaoran. Silence hummed in the space between them as Fai rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

_How can I even explain this without sounding crazy?_

"Syaoran-kun, I've never wished you any harm. Not even in Tokyo. You know that, don't you?"

A lump rose in his throat. "I know."

"So you can tell me the truth, no matter what it is. You don't have to be ashamed of anything. I just have to know how long he's been hurting you like this."

He shook his head. "It's not like that. He's not _abusing _me, he . . . We came to an agreement."

"An agreement."

"Yes." His cheeks warmed. "This may sound strange to you, but I'm the one who approached him."

Fai's head snapped up, as if he'd been jolted with an electric current.

Syaoran went on, speaking rapidly. "It started a few months ago. I don't remember exactly when, but it was a few weeks after we arrived in this world." He paused, remembering how reluctant he'd been to approach anyone, how he'd isolated himself, only eating when the others left or were otherwise occupied. Wasting away as guilt gnawed at him for what had happened in Tokyo. "I was in a bad place. Kurogane-san was the only person here who didn't treat me like a ghost. Ah, no offense."

Fai made a dismissive gesture. "Go on."

Syaoran nodded, staring at his cast and imagining patterns in the gauze. The words flowed better if he didn't allow himself to consider his audience. "Back then, I thought there was no way to repair what went wrong in Tokyo. I thought you all hated me, so when I realized that he _didn't_, of course I preferred to spend time with him. And one day, I just . . . I don't know. It was an impulsive decision. I didn't think about it."

"Think about what?"

Reminded of his audience, his cheeks burned bright red. "Well, I sort of . . . I wanted to differentiate myself from the Other, so I did something he would never do, and I . . . I kissed him, but it wasn't meant to be romantic. It _wasn't_. But I'd been so alone for so long, and I couldn't stand the way you all looked at me." _Through me. Like a ghost._

"And you two just—"

He shook his head. "It's more complicated than that." He took a deep breath to maintain control of himself. "I don't want you to think he just _agreed _to let things be that way. Of course not. He must've thought I was insane. That day, he was so _angry_, and I was so scared that I'd ruined everything. How could I ever face him again? But he was kind to me. When I broke my shoulder, he was the one who made sure I took my pain medication." He decided it would be prudent to leave out the fact that Kurogane had been the one who'd broken his shoulder in the first place. Mentioning it would only exacerbate the situation. "And that day I came back from the library with a black eye . . . He helped me through that, too."

"Anyone would've."

"But he was the one who _did_. And things started to look up. It was always because of him. He never abandoned me—never. So one day, I . . . I asked him if things could be that way between us. And he agreed."

The ticking clock grew louder as the room fell quiet again. Fai didn't move, his gaze unfocused, as if he was looking at something far away. When the silence grew awkward, he spoke. "And that's all the further it went?"

Syaoran froze, remembering the sizzling touch of the ninja's hands on his face, his ribs, his hips. Remembering his own responses, which had embarrassed him even at the time. His throat closed up. _How am I supposed to talk about this with someone else? It's an invasion of privacy. I'd never ask _him _about his love life._

But this wasn't just an awkward situation, he reminded himself. Ten minutes ago, Fai had actually believed the older man had been molesting him. Fai still didn't have all the justifications, the reasoning. _So tell him. Explain. And hope this doesn't go sour. _"Fai-san, that's not . . . I should've explained better. You mentioned earlier that you were concerned about how young I was, compared to him."

"That's right."

"But the thing is . . . Taking into account the time I spent as Fei Wong's prisoner, I'm actually about twenty-one."

Fai balked, mouth opening and closing without forming a single syllable.

"It's not an exact age," Syaoran continued. "But if I'm basing it on how much time I spent watching through the Other's eyes, that's what I come up with. Now, you could argue that I wasn't actually present in Clow when my clone was, and therefore those years don't count." He paused, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. "But I _feel _old. Much older than I look."

"Even stretching it, that's still a difference of at least six years."

"I know. But from a certain viewpoint, I _am _a consenting adult. And greater age gaps in romance were common in many countries in my home world—less than a century ago, it was acceptable in some cultures for fourteen-year-old girls to be married off to old men as their second or third wives."

"Syaoran-kun—"

"It's not ideal. I know that. But it's still my choice."

"And how does that choice affect Sakura-chan?"

The words pierced a hole the size of his head in his argument. Guilt twisted through him like a spear driven through his entrails. Sakura. He hadn't forgotten her—of course not—but he hadn't allowed her to leak into his relationship with Kurogane. He'd convinced himself it was unnecessary to worry about that detail until he could actually see her again, face-to-face.

Fai interpreted his silence as guilt and went on. "You must understand how this looks."

"Yes, but—"

The magician held up a hand to stop him. Syaoran bowed his head, eyes fixed on his broken toes. "I understand that with a great variety of worlds, you could conclude that different cultures will have vastly different societal standards. But it seems fairly universal that something like what you and Kurogane have would be . . . problematic."

"Why?" _Because it makes you uncomfortable? Because _you _think it's wrong? _

Fai sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you over this. But if you're going to do it, I have one condition."

He raised his eyebrows. _A condition?_ "What do you mean?"

"You have to tell Sakura."


	58. Ultimatum

Chapter Fifty-Eight

_"You have to tell Sakura."_

The words rang in Syaoran's ears like a church bell in an empty town. All the color seeped from his face, leaving his lips paper-white and darkening the rings around his eyes. If he'd been standing, his knees would've folded like broken lawn chairs. Tell Sakura? How could he? He'd endured this conversation with Fai out of necessity, but even the thought of mentioning it to the Sakura in the next room sent ripples of horror through his mind. And trying to explain the same to _his _Sakura was unthinkable. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he rejected it. Couldn't even consider it because his relationship with Kurogane and his love for Sakura didn't coexist in his head. How could they, when the existence of either relationship threatened the other? _No, _he thought. _I would never be able to tell her. But if I don't, I lose what little I have now. _

"Or you could end it here," Fai said. "Those are your options."

Syaoran looked up, trying to refocus despite the vast chasm opening up in his chest. As the vampire stood, the ultimatum sunk in, digging its claws into his heart. "You can't," he whispered.

"I can. You tell her, or you break it off with Kurogane. But I won't watch you lie to us."

He flinched from the accusation, his eyes following Fai as he started for the door. As his pale fingers brushed against the doorknob, Fai paused. "I'll offer the same to him. But it has to be one or the other."

The door opened, closed. Syaoran sank into the couch cushions, feeling as if he'd been punched in the gut. The clock on the wall _ticked_, keeping its insistent rhythm even as time became meaningless again.

Outside, a pigeon shrieked.

* * *

Fai paused at the elevator doors, taking deep breaths as he waited for the metal box to descend. His toes curled, tapping against the inside of his shoe. A witch's cauldron simmered in his stomach, boiling up into his throat, but he steeled himself for this next confrontation.

As the metal doors parted, he stepped into the elevator and ordered it to ascend to the roof. The buttons on the wall glowed orange when he pressed them, some of the numbers smudged with dirt, ink, and other substances he couldn't identify. As the elevator rose, the cauldron in his stomach seemed to boil over.

He was nervous. He could admit that. Nervous because acting like an adult would only put him on level footing with Kurogane, and because he couldn't guilt the red-eyed man with an ultimatum without looking like a hypocrite. _And you are one, _whispered that self-destructive corner of his mind. _You always have been. Ordering Syaoran to tell the truth when all you do is lie. How can you justify that? _

The elevator lurched to a halt. His hand snaked out to grab the supports on the side of the elevator to stabilize himself. As the doors parted again, a frigid wind bit at his face, clinging to his skin like mist.

Fai straightened, stepped out of the elevator, and walked to where Kurogane sat, staring out across the city as if waiting for an attack. Wind battered against antennae on the rooftop, and the massive heaters wheezed, forcing warm air down the building. Yet all the noise couldn't penetrate the deafening silence hanging between them.

"Syaoran-kun told me everything."

"Yeah. Figured he would." Kurogane craned his neck, red eyes appraising. The wind carried the scent of the ninja's blood to his nostrils, the metallic smell emanating from the half-inch deep slices Fai had left in the man's side less than half an hour ago.

_Focus, _he told himself. _You still have an obligation to get this right. _"Why'd you do it?"

"The kid needed me."

"You shouldn't have let this happen."

Kurogane stiffened. "Yeah? Should I have let him starve himself to death in his room?"

"There's a difference between taking care of someone and taking advantage of them."

"No shit." The ninja stood and started pacing across the edge of the rooftop. Fai noted the sword hanging from his belt, then calculated his chances of surviving if this came to a confrontation. With magic, he'd have an edge, but he'd seen the ninja at his fiercest, and he didn't want to get caught in the aftermath. Not yet.

Not until he absolutely had to.

"I never took advantage of him. Never. I gave him every opportunity to call it off, whenever he wanted, so if you think you can pin all the blame on me, you're even stupider than I thought."

Fai let the insult glide over him. "I understand how Syaoran might've come to the conclusion that this was feasible, but I never thought you'd have such bad judgment."

Kurogane's hand rested on Souhi's hilt. "You want to repeat that?"

He stepped forward. Focus. Control. He could control himself. He'd been doing it for years, he could do it now. "We have two options. One, you and Syaoran-kun could stop this."

"And the other option?"

"One of you has to tell Sakura-chan. I'd prefer Syaoran tell her, but you two can't keep sneaking around like you have been. If you're going to do this, it's going to be out in the open."

"Fuck you."

_Well, this is going as well as expected. _He took another deep breath. "That's the same ultimatum I gave Syaoran-kun. Whatever you choose, I'll accept it. But something has to give, and it's not going to be me." _Not this time. _He started to turn toward the elevator, not daring to push the red-eyed man any further when his sword was so close at hand.

Just as Fai hit the button to summon the elevator, Kurogane spoke. "What the hell's wrong with it? Why does it bother you who I fuck?"

Fai flinched, the bluntness of the last statement striking him like a whip. Syaoran had alluded to something more than a few kisses, but to have it confirmed right now tipped the cauldron in his stomach. His throat burned, distress digging its claws into his back. _Ignore it. You endured much worse before Ashura found you. _He took a deep breath, saying nothing.

"Well?" Kurogane demanded. "He's mentally twenty-one, so age shouldn't be an issue. Or is it something _else_?"

"What are you implying?"

"Don't play that game. You _know _what I'm implying."

Fai smiled bitterly. "So, what? You think I'd find it repulsive because you both have cocks?"

There was a beat of silence. He turned to see the stunned expression etched into the ninja's face, as if the man hadn't believed him capable of such blunt terminology.

Fai sighed. "Don't be ridiculous. Such relationships are commonplace in my world." He'd had a variety of lovers back in Ceres, both male and female, though he'd never been able to form strong attachments to any of them. No, his reasoning was much less bigoted. "You want to know why it bothers me? You really want to know?"

"Yes! What the hell is so wrong with it?"

"He's in love with Sakura!" He didn't bother to differentiate between the image waiting downstairs and the original from which she'd been created—the original this Syaoran had almost certainly fallen in love with. He doubted Kurogane knew, for one, and it wasn't really relevant. "If things carry on like this, it's going to break him. And you should _know _that."

The ninja's eyes darted to his feet, and just for a moment, Fai saw the layers of emotion there. Guilt. Desperation. Confusion. And perhaps a flicker of vulnerability, though that was buried so deep beneath the others that he couldn't be sure if it had ever been there.

"The ultimatum still stands," Fai said, relieved when the elevators parted for him. "Either this relationship is out in the open, or it stops. I won't accept anything less."

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?"

Fai thought of the lies he'd told them, of the coolness with which he'd favored nearly everyone since Tokyo, of the betrayals he'd have to make sometime in the future. Selfish, all of it. But that had never stopped him before.

He stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the lobby, and let the doors close behind him.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_For the record, I do consider KuroFai to be canon. The reason I'm mentioning this is because Fai gets up on his soapbox a little bit in this chapter, at least internally, and it may have something to do with his repressed attraction to Kurogane. But KuroFai doesn't really fit in this story, so, just as CLAMP did in the manga, I'm leaving it as subtext. And, answering a question I'm sure some of you have been pondering for a while now, the reason I don't write KuroFai is because, while I enjoy reading it, I'm not good at writing Fai's POV, and other writers have done much better than I ever could in the KuroFai department. Also, there are a lot of KuroFai fics, especially compared to other pairings, and I enjoy diversifying the archives. So, if anyone's been wondering, I don't have any issues with KuroFai, but I'm content to leave that to others._


	59. Nightmares

Chapter Fifty-Nine

"Where is everyone?" Sakura asked, peering through the open door to find Kurogane and Fai's beds empty.

Syaoran struggled to think of a reply that didn't incriminate anyone. "They were gone before I woke up," he said, feigning ignorance.

"Oh." She frowned, glancing at the clock. "Early for them to be out."

"I guess." He looked away, trying not to cringe at the thought of what Kurogane and Fai were talking about right now. _Kurogane will tell the truth. He has to, now that Fai knows this much. But how much of the truth will he tell? _His face warmed, memories of their more intimate interludes dancing in front of his eyes. He doubted the ninja would describe _in detail _what they'd done, but the thought that Fai would _know_ they'd done more than kissing made his stomach twist into knots. _How am I ever going to be able to look him in the eye again? And how can I know Fai won't tell Sakura himself?_

"Are you all right?"

His head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on Sakura's face. The corners of her lips had turned down, and a furrow had appeared between her eyebrows. "I'm fine," he said.

"Your face is red. Do you have a fever? Should I—"

"No, that's okay. Really, I'm fine." _Please let it go. Please. _

Her frown deepened. "Do you want me to make you some soup?"

"I . . ." He hesitated, weighing his options. Fai wasn't particularly thrilled with him, and he doubted the magician would let Kurogane anywhere near him for a few days, even for menial tasks. And he didn't want to take advantage of Sakura's kindness while their relationship was so tenuous. Yet what other option did he have? "That would be great. Thank you."

Her eyebrows lifted half an inch. "Okay. I'll get that started, then. Do you think the others will be back in time for breakfast?"

He shrugged. Better if she believed he knew nothing of what was going on. _Better to lie, _whispered that hateful little voice in the back of his mind. _Better to lie to the Other's princess than __jeopardize your own happiness__. But then, it's been that way for months now, hasn't it? _

Syaoran shook off the thought. He'd justified his relationship with Kurogane so many times in his mind, and now to Fai as well. _Maybe too much. Maybe you're lying to yourself now. After all, why bother with him when you've got your own princess waiting? It's because you're selfish. You can't even set aside your own pleasure to do the right thing. Pathetic. _

He heard the front door swing open, and braced himself, unsure what to expect. Fai might not be openly hostile to him while Sakura was in the room, but the cold looks, the accusation in his eyes . . . Syaoran expected all of it.

_And you deserve it, _whispered his mind. _You deserve whatever comes to you._

* * *

For the first few days, Syaoran was so focused on Fai's silent disapproval that he didn't pay much attention to the fact that Kurogane was avoiding him. But gradually, it started to sink in.

"I'm heading out," Kurogane said, donning his black coat. "Be back in a few hours."

In the kitchen, Fai muttered a subdued reply and continued scrubbing dishes that were already spotless. Syaoran turned his head, looking away from the television to see the ninja walking out the door. Then, attention straying, he turned his head back toward the screen and watched the colorful patterns dancing in front of his eyelids. He'd ceased paying attention to the program he'd been watching, letting his mind wander. As the scrape of steel wool over dishware hissed in his ears, he closed his eyes, letting himself drift.

He'd slept a lot in the first few days after they'd found him in Cassie's basement, his body recovering from its injuries. Ever since Fai had caught him kissing Kurogane six days ago, he'd started sleeping a lot more, preferring the oblivion of unconsciousness to the present moment. Sleep let him escape the depression of his daily life by plunging him into the hell of his nightmares.

He wasn't sure which he preferred. Usually whichever was most present in his thoughts. But for the moment, he let himself slip into those nightmares, just for a change of pace.

Cassie's basement stretched out in front of him, everything faded to a dingy gray. Phantom chains pulled at his arms like demons dragging him back into that pit. Eerie red light spilled across the room, dying everything crimson. Syaoran struggled against the restraints, wrists bleeding as the metal cut into his flesh.

A high-pitched, girlish giggle fluttered against his eardrums—"Welcome to the playroom," Cassie said, twirling a glowing dagger in her hand. Screams. His screams, he knew, but they didn't sound like him. He didn't scream, couldn't, he had more important things to worry about. He'd endure any pain. Had to. But the metal bit into his flesh and the shackles binding his wrists burned as if they, too, had been plunged into the fire. His screams grew shrill, rising to a pitch he hadn't believed he could reach. Streaks of agony criss-crossed his chest, skin shriveling as Cassie plunged her dagger into his skin, but he wouldn't die. Couldn't.

But he wanted to.

* * *

Fai's ears zeroed in on the pained whimper as if it had been a car horn. His head whipped around, and the plate in his hand nearly shattered with the force of his grip. Before it could, he set it on the counter and darted over to where Syaoran lay, claws coming out as his supernatural speed kicked in. "Syaoran-kun?"

Crumpled up on the couch, Syaoran whimpered, shivering as if he'd been dumped in a snowbank. Fai knelt beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder and shaking him. The boy recoiled, raising his arms in front of his face. "No. Please, no more . . ."

He drew back, ice sliding down his spine. Syaoran's shivers increased in intensity, his body curling up as much as possible while his leg was still encumbered by the cast. Another whine escaped his throat. "Let go. _Please_."

_A nightmare, _Fai realized, his eye widening. He shook Syaoran's shoulder more forcefully. "Syaoran-kun, wake up. You're dreaming. Wake up!"

The tremors, the whimpers, the pleas—all of it stopped as Syaoran snapped back into awareness. Glassy brown eyes drifted up to Fai's face, pupils dilated, still trapped in the nightmare. Then, like a flower blooming in fast-forward, he unfurled and pressed his face into the couch cushions.

Fai hesitated for a moment, then rested a hand between Syaoran's shoulder-blades. Syaoran flinched, burrowing deeper into the cushions.

_He's traumatized, _Fai reminded himself. _It's going to take time for him to bounce back from what happened. Especially considering everything else. _His mind flitted to the conversations he'd had with Kurogane and Syaoran just a few days ago. To him, the relationship seemed dangerously codependent. Even with consent, such heavy reliance didn't bode well in the long-term. _He's not in a good place now. He hasn't been since we met him. He might not realize this is the wrong way to go about things. _

"Syaoran-kun," he said, lowering his voice as King Ashura had whenever he'd spoken to him those first days in Ceres. "It was just a nightmare. It's going to be all right."

"I'm fine."

Fai bit his lip. "Sakura-chan wouldn't want you to hide your pain. You can still talk to us. I'm not . . . I'm not holding anything against you."

"I don't believe you."

_I deserve that, _he thought, wincing. _Why should he believe me? Why should anyone, when all I do is lie? I'm a hypocrite. They must all know that. _"I don't want you to think you don't have a support network. We—"

"If I had a support network," Syaoran began, raising his head. The fire in his eyes burned like molten steel. "then where were you after we landed in this world?"

He froze, the words catching in his throat, choking him. His vision blurred for just a second, hurt shredding through his chest as if he'd raked his claws through his lungs. Then, without a word, he bowed his head. "I should've been." _Then maybe things wouldn't seem so broken now. _

"Yes," Syaoran said, his voice clipped, bitterness seeping into his words like poison. "You should have. But you weren't. What else was I supposed to do, except latch onto the only person who _was_?"

"You know that doesn't change anything."

Several seconds passed in silence. Syaoran sat up and shifted, grabbing his chair and bringing it around to the front of the couch. "I'm going to my room," he said, his voice eerily devoid of emotion. _Like the other Syaoran, _Fai thought, watching Syaoran wheel himself into his bedroom for the first time in weeks.

The door closed with a sound of finality.


	60. Turning Point

Chapter Sixty

Hours passed before he heard a knock on his door. "Syaoran-kun, it's dinnertime."

He said nothing, closing his eyes and hoping that if he ignored Fai, he'd go away. It was a childish impulse—he knew that. But thinking about the door standing between them, he couldn't hold back that little rush of relief. Finally, a chance to put a wall between him and the others, to avoid seeing Fai's disapproving gaze, or hearing Sakura's weary sigh.

Fai knocked more insistently. "It's spaghetti. You should come out."

Syaoran drew the sheets tighter around his body, shivering as the cool fabric slid across his skin. Rather than hunger, he felt a stab of nausea at the thought of going out there, in his wheelchair, and trying to pretend everything was normal now that Fai knew.

Fai knew. He had trouble adjusting to that. Though he'd kept his explanations vague, the thought of Fai thinking about what he'd been doing . . . Syaoran swallowed against the bile rising in his throat.

"Syaoran-kun," Fai called, still at the door. "Can I come in?"

_No. Go away. _He closed his eyes, flinching as the wizard turned the doorknob only to find it wouldn't turn. "Is this _locked_?"

He said nothing, hoping Fai would conclude he was sleeping. Or dead. Immature as it was, the thought of making Fai worry gave him a little thrill of satisfaction. Which he then felt guilty for feeling. And that guilt turned to self-loathing. A cycle of shame. _It sounds like something out of a bad movie, _he thought, pulling the sheets over his head.

Beyond the door, Fai spoke again, addressing someone else. "He's not coming out."

"He probably doesn't want to talk to you," Kurogane said, voice lower, but instantly recognizable. _Yes, that's right, _Syaoran thought. _And who would want to talk about it, anyway? __How do you face someone who knows? _

Fai didn't respond to Kurogane's remark, at least not verbally. But his footsteps faded as he headed toward the kitchen.

* * *

Beyond the bedroom door, time moved forward. But for Syaoran, it felt frozen.

He didn't leave his room except for bathroom trips, and even those he dealt with only when the need was dire. He got in and out of his wheelchair without help, ignored the others when they approached. Twice, Fai interrupted him on his way out, speaking to him as if they'd been in the middle of the confrontation.

"Dinner was great tonight," Fai said the first time. "It would've been nice if you'd been there."

Syaoran had said nothing, merely opening the bedroom door and wheeling himself back into the world where the only ways to measure time were through the needs of his body. Fai had continued speaking through the door, carrying on as if the lack of response had encouraged him. "I'm planning on making pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. Do you want me to add anything special? Chocolate chips? Strawberries?"

Syaoran had crawled back into bed and pushed his chair off to the side where he wouldn't see it every time he opened his eyes.

"I'll go with both then. We're down to about quarter of a bottle of syrup, if you wanted to come shopping with us next time we head out." _To make sure you're not alone with Kurogane. _The words had gone unspoken, but rang in his ears nonetheless. He'd closed his eyes. "We'll plan on that then. Sunday sounds like a lovely day for shopping, don't you think?"

This time, when he didn't answer, Fai stopped talking.

* * *

The second time they spoke, Fai was standing outside the bathroom door, waiting for him. Syaoran rolled past him, heading to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" Fai asked, perking up. "The pancakes are cold, but I can make another batch, or we can reheat them."

Syaoran pulled a glass from one of the cupboards, noting that the others had reorganized the cabinets to make them wheelchair-accessible. The thought made his throat tighten, half from relief and half from something else. He filled the glass with water, tasteless and colorless, as Fai went on. "Or, if you're not in the mood for pancakes, we have some cans of tomato soup. Isn't it just wonderful that you can buy preserved food instead of canning it yourself? Canning was always a big project in Ceres—everybody would pitch in, even the king."

Syaoran wedged the glass of water between his thigh and the side of the wheelchair, then started wheeling himself back to his room.

"Sakura-chan is going to help me make cookies later on. We were thinking sugar cookies, or chocolate chip. She said she remembers a few recipes from Clow, if you wanted to—"

Syaoran stopped, and Fai, carried along by his own momentum, had to change directions and sidestep the wheelchair to keep from running into it. For the first time in over twelve hours, Syaoran spoke. "Leave me alone."

"Syaoran-kun . . ."

"That's all I want. Just leave me alone." He twisted the doorknob, pulled the door open, and wheeled himself inside.

Fai didn't speak to him until later that night, and that conversation took place with a wall between them. "We finished baking cookies. Ginger snaps. Sakura-chan said they were popular in Clow."

A lump rose in his throat. They _had _been popular there, as popular as chocolate chip cookies had been in other countries of that world. His Sakura had brought a basket of ginger snaps to him once, the same way she _always _brought things for him. Food, little trinkets, things she'd found on her way to his house. _She worried about me, _he remembered. _Every day, she worried about me. __And whenever we saw each other, she always had something to give me. _

"Please eat," Fai said, the paper-thin walls barely muffling his voice. "It's not healthy to starve yourself like this."

Syaoran opened his mouth, about to reassure Fai that he was fine. That he was _always _fine, just like he was _always _sorry. Then he clamped his mouth shut and said nothing.

The next time someone came to his door, it was Sakura. And somehow, that just seemed like a rotten trick. "Fai-san wants to know if you want any chicken."

"No, thank you," he said, voice hoarse from disuse.

There was a beat of silence. "Then would you like something else?"

"No, I'm fine."

"How about spaghetti? We have some sauce left over from the other day."

"No."

"Pizza?"

"No."

"Ice cream?"

"No."

Silence.

"You should eat. We're worried about you."

And when he didn't respond, she walked away, too.

* * *

Time held no meaning in his self-imposed imprisonment, so when Fai told him(through the door, of course)that it had been two days since he'd eaten, it surprised him.

And when Fai told him it had been three, it still surprised him. And when Fai told him it had been four days and he'd better come out and eat something instead of sulking in his room, it didn't surprise him so much anymore.

But when Fai sent Kurogane to talk to him . . . _That _was a shock.

"Come out of your room and eat, or I'll knock down the door."

"Go away."

"I'm serious."

_I know, _he thought, grimacing. "I'm not hungry."

"Bullshit."

_It's the truth, _he thought. He hadn't really felt hungry since Fai had found out about his relationship with Kurogane. And while logic told him he ought to be starving, the thought of food made him nauseous.

"Open the door, damn it!" Something—a fist?—slammed against the door, making it reverberate. Syaoran closed his eyes, shutting out the noise just as he'd shut everything else out over the past four days.

When he heard wood splintering, he sat up in his bed as if someone had poured ice water over him. With a mix of terror and fascination, he watched the door vibrate in its frame, shaking and splintering with every impact. Light sliced through the wood as it crumpled in the middle, and he drew back, raising his arms in front of his face as splinters fell to the floor. The door caved in with a final, shuddering crash, and his eyes narrowed against the flood of illumination.

Kurogane stalked over to the bed, hackles raised, and grabbed him by the arm. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"You broke the door," Syaoran said, voice quavering with shock.

"I told you I'd knock it down if you didn't come out! Did you think I was _joking_?"

"Yes! Who breaks down a door? Who does that?" His voice broke, and he winced at how much he sounded like a child.

"Why didn't you unlock it?" Kurogane demanded.

He threw his hands up in frustration. "I didn't want anybody to come in here! That's the purpose of a lock! That's why we lock things!"

Kurogane's grip tightened around his arm. He tried to pull away, then flinched when Kurogane yanked in the opposite direction. Pain twisted through his shoulder. "You do as I say," Kurogane whispered in his ear. The words sunk into his mind like rocks dropped into a pond. "You open the door when I need to talk to you. You don't do _stupid _shit like starving yourself."

"Let go." He hated how his command sounded like a plea, how his throat tightened with unshed tears.

"No."

"Let me go. Please, let me go . . ." His breath wavered.

_Let me go_.

The knife sliding through his flesh.

_Please, let me go . . . _

Jet, holding the bottle of bleach over him, ready to pour it in his eyes.

_No, no, please, let me go. _

Nails being yanked out of his fingertips.

Kurogane let go.

Syaoran started screaming.


	61. Shame

Chapter Sixty-One

A blur of yellow and white shot past Kurogane as he covered his ears. His vision focused, tracking the movement, judging whether it was a threat or not. Only when the figure spoke did he recognize it as the mage. "Syaoran-kun, calm down. Calm down."

The boy flailed, folding up like paper as his shriek sharpened. Fai wrapped his arms around the kid's shoulders, only to receive an elbow to the gut. Kurogane winced as if the blow had been aimed at him.

Syaoran's screams turned to sobs. "Get away, get away, get away . . ."

Fai stepped back, staring at the boy as his pleas bounced off the wall. When a gold eye flashed to his face, Kurogane spoke. "Get the princess."

For once, Fai didn't argue. The vampire darted out of the room, supernatural speed turning him to a blur. Kurogane turned his attention back to the boy, heartbeat thundering in his ears. On the bed, the kid clutched his head, rocking back and forth. All the blood had seeped out of his face. Lines of red criss-crossed the whites of his eyes as he stared at the wall. If he'd had fingernails, Kurogane was sure they'd have carved bloody furrows into his face by now. The sobs scraping through the kid's throat grated on Kurogane's eardrums like an awl.

It was like the kid wasn't there. He was sitting on the bed, physically present, but Kurogane had no idea how to reach him, how to make things all right again. And that terrified him.

Fai swept into the room again, Sakura in tow. As the princess stumbled over to the bedside, the mage retreated against the wall, watching from afar as if the kid would just erupt all over again. Instead, the princess took the boy's hand and sat at his side, murmuring reassurances. Kurogane watched, awed, as Syaoran's pleas abated, his shoulders relaxing.

When the kid laid his cheek on the princess's shoulder, Kurogane let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I didn't know he'd do that."

The mage glanced at him, then away, not saying a word. On the bed, the kid quieted, his cries subsiding. The princess glanced at them. "Bring him something to eat. He needs it."

Kurogane started to move, suddenly eager to get out of the room. Fai raised an arm to block him. "I've got it."

He met the mage's gaze, lips twisting in annoyance. "I can do it."

"I think it would be better if I did." Fai turned and stepped over the splintered remains of the door. Kurogane followed, the back of his neck heating up. As he stepped across the threshold, he grabbed the idiot by the wrist and stopped him.

"Are you really going to argue with me over _this_?" he demanded, his voice low, furious.

"Yes." Fai faced him, tilting his chin up. "I don't think Syaoran-kun will benefit from seeing any more of you today. He seemed quite upset."

_You bastard, _he thought, hands curling into fists. "That has nothing to do with this, and you know it."

"What I know is that you knocked down a door and triggered his panic attack."

His hand twitched. "You're the one who told me to get him out of his room."

Fai's expression didn't change. "I hardly see how that equates to smashing a door in."

"You didn't bother stopping me while I was doing it."

"A lapse in attention."

"Liar."

"And let's not forget that his episode only happened when you confronted him."

_Don't kill him, _Kurogane told himself, inhaling through his teeth. _It would upset the kids. You'd have to hide the body. You'd be another player short of a chess team. _He exhaled, forcing his fingers to uncurl. Fai looked down at his hands with disdain, as if he was staring at a bug he intended to crush underfoot. Then, the mage turned away and started for the kitchen.

"Is this about the door or something else?" Kurogane asked, unable to expel the venom from his voice.

Fai paused. "How strange. You're usually the one who criticizes needless questions." And then he stepped into the kitchen, leaving the chaos behind him.

* * *

Shame crept in as the memories receded. As Syaoran came back to himself, he drew away from Sakura, wiping his eyes as if his tears were made of acid. "Sorry."

Sakura—not _his _Sakura, he reminded himself, the spot of shame blossoming into something worse—placed a hand between his shoulder blades. "It's all right."

He shook his head. "I forgot where I was. That doesn't make this—"

"It's fine. You've been through a lot."

"I'm sorry." He withdrew his hand from hers, heart aching even knowing that she wasn't _his _Sakura. "You didn't have to come. I know this is hard for you." He thought of what she'd said back in the hospital, what she _knew_ about herself. _What must it be like to know you're a copy of someone else? _he wondered. _Even the Other didn't know what he was until Tokyo, and now he has no reason to care. _

He wondered if being a copy ever felt like not existing at all. And if not existing at all ever felt like the depression he'd been facing over the past few days, trapped in this room with no door, where time didn't matter anymore.

After a few minutes, Fai swept into the room, carrying a bowl of chicken noodle soup. When Fai set the dish on his lap, Syaoran stared at it, stomach pitching as if someone had stuck a knife in it. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his mouth, throat dry. "I'm not hungry," he whispered.

"You're eating," Kurogane said, looming in the doorway with his arms crossed. The moments before his panic attack flickered through his mind, and he looked away, shame deepening.

"It's all right, Syaoran-kun. Whatever else is going on, it's safe for you to eat."

_Safe, _he thought, automatically associating the word with _lies_. Nowhere was safe. If a few monsters could pull him off the street and torture him, then what place could possibly be safe? _I've __never been safe. Just lucky. _

"It would make me really happy if you ate," Sakura said, looking up at him with jade eyes.

His throat tightened. _If I _don't _eat, she'll be unhappy. And I have to eat eventually, otherwise I'll starve. _The thought lingered in his mind. Starvation was a painful way to go, certainly, but there was a passiveness to it that made it seem less horrific than other forms of death. _Could be worse, _he thought, shuddering at the possibilities. _Death can come much faster if I wanted it to. But there are still worse ways to die. _He moved his hand to the spoon, guilt motivating him to eat despite the stones tumbling around in his stomach. The broth tasted like pure salt, and the noodles slid down his throat like wet silk, making him gag. He choked down the first few bites, his body revolting against the sudden change, and the rest came easier. He ate until he felt sick, then set the bowl aside.

Hovering at the edge of the room, Fai sighed. "You only ate half."

"I don't feel well."

The magician's eyebrows slanted back, but he took the bowl away and headed out, pausing only to mutter something to Kurogane, who then crossed his arms and stalked out without a word. Sakura stayed by the bed a moment longer, taking his hand and holding it for a few minutes. "You shouldn't punish yourself like this. You haven't done anything wrong."

He said nothing. After a moment, Sakura stood and released his hand. "Will you try to be happy? As much as you possibly can?"

He hesitated, then exhaled. "Okay."

Sakura smiled, and his heart jolted with pleasure and guilt. "I'm glad." She rested a hand on his shoulder, and he took a moment to admire her without guilt. Even now, beaten and broken by Tokyo and everything after, this Sakura was a warm person.

He hated lying to her.


	62. Manipulation and Lies

Chapter Sixty-Two

"If you want to argue with me, let's not do it here," the mage had said as they'd walked out of the kid's bedroom. And Kurogane had every intention of arguing.

"Rooftop," he said, placing a hand on the magician's shoulder. "Ten minutes. Meet me there."

"Fine." Fai shook off his hand as if it was nothing more than a minor annoyance. Bastard. Kurogane grabbed his coat off the rack and walked out the door, barely resisting the urge to slam it behind him. The last thing he needed was for the princess to come poking around, wondering why he was so furious.

Last thing he needed was to tip the kid off that he and the mage were about to argue over him.

He jammed his hands in his pockets, nose twitching from the scent of cigarette smoke and stale piss in the lobby, and stepped into one of the elevators, jabbing the top button and waiting for the doors to shut behind him. Slowly, he ascended to the rooftop, anger rolling down his back in waves. The whole situation rankled—the kid's reaction, the blood dripping down his knuckles from knocking the door down, the mage looking at him as if it was _his _fault the kid was having panic attacks now. _I ought to knock some sense into that bastard, _he thought, striding through the elevator doors as they parted. _The kid needs me. I'm the only one who can get through to him. _

His mind flickered back to how the princess had sat at the edge of the bed. How she'd held the kid's hand until he'd calmed. The certainty of a moment ago morphed into something else. The muscles in his neck stood out, but something in his gut gave way, as if some essential pillar had cracked inside him. No, he wasn't the only one who could get through to the kid. But for the longest time, he'd been the only one who'd bothered. How could the mage—how could _anyone _ignore that?

Behind him, the elevator doors opened. Kurogane turned, forcing himself to calm down, to face this argument rationally. His words still sliced the air like a steel blade. "Why won't you let me take care of him?"

Fai's voice was just as frigid. "I don't trust you."

"And you think I'm going to hurt him while _you're _standing outside the door?"

"He _did _go into a panic attack after you showed up."

"That wasn't my fault!" he exploded, taking some satisfaction at the way the mage flinched. "You think I _wanted_ that? You think I was even fucking _expecting_ it? What those bastards did to him . . . I wanted to kill them for it. If it hadn't been for that curse Tomoyo put on me, I would have carved them all up, bit by bit, just like they were doing to him." _Worse_, he thought. _I'd have done worse. _He thought of the jug of bleach that redheaded bastard had been holding when he'd knocked down the door. How much damage it could've done to the kid if he'd taken another second getting there. How much damage it could've done to the monsters who'd intended to use it. _They haven't seen a monster until they've seen me. _Fury simmered beneath his skin, held in check only by the knowledge that local law enforcement had dealt with them. And the fact that they weren't in striking range.

"That's a little excessive, don't you think?" Fai said.

"What?"

"Carving them up bit by bit. You always struck me as the kind of person to take someone out in one blow."

His lips twisted into a sneer. "Well you'd be wrong." _Some people have it coming. _

"You're very antagonistic tonight. Is it because you haven't gotten laid in a week, or—"

Kurogane lunged forward, snatching the mage by the collar and yanking him forward. Fai stumbled, grabbing his upper arm as he tried to right himself. Kurogane drew his other arm back, getting ready to smash the blond bastard's face in. Then he froze, knuckles white with the tension in his fist. _This is exactly what he figured I'd do, _he realized, not sure if he was more shocked or angry that the mage had managed to manipulate him into a physical confrontation. _That's why he's not dodging like he always does. He's waiting for me to hit him as proof that I'm not stable enough to deal with the kid right now. _

Slowly, he lowered his arm, releasing the mage's collar. Fai straightened, hands brushing against his coat's hood as if he was brushing dirt away. "You did that on purpose," Kurogane said.

"Yes."

He inhaled, exhaled. Regained control. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Fai raised an eyebrow.

"If you want to prove I have no place around the kid, you'll have to be smarter than that. You thought I wouldn't notice that you were ready to take a hit just to prove your point?"

Fai's single eye narrowed. "You're too clever, _Kurogane_. But I don't need you to prove my point for me. I can do it myself." He advanced half a step, a gust of wind stirring his hair and making it flap like bird wings. "Regardless of whether you'd hit me or not, your reaction proves that you're a slave to your emotions. Particularly anger." His eye flashed gold. "Think about what would've happened if you hadn't stopped when you did."

"I would've hit you. And you had it coming."

"Maybe so. Now think about what you _could've _done to Syaoran-kun, if his panic attack hadn't startled you."

"I would never hurt him."

"Really?" Fai took another step forward. Stubborn to the marrow, Kurogane held his ground. "Because you left bruises."

Kurogane blinked, derailed. "What?"

"On his arm. After you asked him what was wrong with him. You grabbed him so tight, your fingertips left bruises."

He shook his head. "You're lying."

"You want to see for yourself?"

His stomach bunched up, nausea crashing over him like a wave. "I don't believe you."

"Except you do. Of course you believe me. Don't lie. I've lied too many times not to know what it looks like."

"I'll walk out tonight if that's true."

The corner of Fai's lip twitched. "Will you?"

"Yes." Because he didn't believe it. Couldn't. He would never hurt the kid, not now. "And you can stop looking so damn smug, because if I go, your only food source goes with it."

The mage's eye went flat, cold. "Fine."

"Then show me."

Fai turned and headed toward the elevator, walking briskly as the freezing wind. For some reason, this night felt colder than any Kurogane had experienced up here. The wind sliced through his coat, biting at his skin until it felt like it would peel away. The nausea—he would not think of it as dread, because there was nothing _to _dread—churned away inside him.

The elevator descended in silence. They walked through the lobby, and he threw a dark glance at the man behind the check-in desk just for the hell of it. When they reached the stairs leading to their subterranean apartment, Fai paused. "You mean it? You'll leave if you hurt him?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"You swear?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." Fai turned and met his gaze. "I lied."

Kurogane stared at him for a long moment, thoughts flashing through his mind almost to quickly to process. Thoughts like _What else is new? _and _Are we going to go or not? _and _Why the hell isn't he saying anything? _He settled on "Lied about what?"

"The bruises. I lied. You didn't hurt him."

"You—"

"I was testing you. I wanted to see if you'd actually commit to leaving if you thought it was best for him."

"Bullshit. You're saying that because you don't want to starve."

"Do you really believe that?" Fai asked, his voice still perfectly polite, distant.

Kurogane's hands tightened into fists. _No._

"You know what a liar looks like. You've been lying for months, and even though you've justified it over and over again in your mind, it still eats at you. I know. The big lies always do."

"I—"

"How do you suppose Syaoran-kun feels about lying to Sakura-chan?" Fai asked, folding his hands behind his back. "Don't you think he feels awful about it? Don't you think it eats at him, too? That maybe the lies bother him even more than they bother you? Why do you think I told you both to tell Sakura if you kept doing this?"

"You . . . _bastard_."

"I've been lying all my life, and it still bothers me. It'll hurt someone like Syaoran-kun even more. So one of you tells Sakura-chan or you stop living the lie. That's the only way I can see this working."

Kurogane's eyebrows slanted downward. _Idiot, _he thought, unsure if the thought was directed at the mage or at himself. _So stupid. _"So the kid's not even hurt. You had me worrying over nothing."

"That's right."

Kurogane's fist shot forward and caught the side of Fai's head. The vampire dropped like a sack of potatoes, unconscious. Kurogane bent over, slung the moron over his shoulder, and carried him down the steps.

_Well, _he thought. _That could've gone worse. _


	63. Sandwiches Revisited

Chapter Sixty-Three

Kurogane carried the mage into the living room and dumped him on the couch, knowing he'd heal within the hour. Then he turned and walked to the kid's room. There was something he needed to check.

Syaoran sat on the bed, leaning against the wall as he stared at the sheets. Since there was no longer a door to knock on, Kurogane rapped his knuckles against the wall to get the kid's attention. The boy tensed, then averted his eyes. "Come in."

Kurogane stepped inside the doorway and stopped to watch the kid's reaction. Syaoran looked at him with a mix of discomfort and apprehension, as if he was expecting to get yelled at for having a panic attack. _I really screwed up this time, _Kurogane thought, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Belatedly, he realized he'd never taken off his coat. "Hey."

Syaoran flinched as if the greeting had been a slap. "Hey."

"You all right?"

"I'm fine."

Kurogane paused, then decided to drop the small talk. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

"I had a panic attack. A bad one."

"How often do you get them?"

Syaoran hesitated, then shrugged. "Depends on the day. Most of the time, it's not so vivid. It's usually just a _feeling_."

Kurogane nodded, then stepped forward. Syaoran looked away, closing his eyes, and, not for the first time this week, Kurogane wished he could just wrap an arm around the kid and make things all right. But with the mage lying unconscious in the living room and the princess hanging out in her bedroom, the risk overshadowed that impulse. He crossed the room, pausing at the edge of the bed. His eyes scanned over the place where he'd grabbed the kid's arm, searching for bruises. _Nothing there, _he thought, the pressure inside his lungs easing up. _T__he mage was lying. _He sat next to the bed, staring at the wall. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

"And I'll fix the door. I can have it done by tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay."

The lack of response made his throat tighten. He said nothing, not trusting his voice. This wasn't supposed to happen—he wasn't supposed to go soft. Yet he struggled to keep his back to the kid.

"Kurogane-san."

His head whipped around. Syaoran met his eyes for the first time in days, his expression strangely fragile. _He hasn't been eating, _he remembered suddenly."Yeah?"

"I want to apologize."

Kurogane sighed. "You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry I worried you. My mind's been in a rough place, so I didn't think about how my absence might affect you. If nothing else, I should have spoken to you about it ahead of time."

"But you knew I wouldn't let you lock yourself up like you have."

Syaoran stiffened, but nodded. "That was part of it. But I was also afraid that if I talked to you, I wouldn't be able to keep my emotions in check. I thought that we might fall into the same relationship we had before, and . . ."

"And you don't want that." _You don't want me._

"It's not that. But Fai-san said that if we carried on like this, we'd have to tell Sakura-hime. And I'm not sure I capable of that."

Kurogane nodded slowly, processing that. "So if he hadn't given the ultimatum, what would you have done?"

Syaoran's calm expression faltered, and Kurogane glimpsed the shattered person inside. It took a long moment for the kid to speak, and when he did, his voice was a whisper. "Eventually, I would've slipped up. I would've fallen in love. And I can't afford that."

Kurogane's lips twisted into a grimace. "Is that what you want then? To break it off for good?"

"No. But I don't think we have a choice."

_There's always a choice. _He bit back the words. If the kid was going to choose that, then there was nothing he could do about it. "Fine."

Syaoran flinched.

Kurogane stood. "I'll replace the door. But I'm not putting a lock on it this time."

"You don't trust me."

He turned and rested a hand on the kid's shoulder. "That's not the reason."

"Then what is?"

"Because every door you put between us is one more obstacle to deal with. And if you change your mind about us, I don't want a locked door to stand in your way."

* * *

The ninja made good on his promise to fix the damage. By noon the next day, he'd installed a new door and adjusted the hinges so they didn't creak every time the door swung open. Syaoran spent the morning sitting in bed, watching him work. There was something inherently graceful about Kurogane when he focused on a task, like the deliberate stride of a performer onto a stage. The man made no careless moves, consolidating tasks and affixing the new door to its frame step-by-step.

So Syaoran observed, blaming his fixation on boredom rather than admiration and pretending he wasn't lying to himself. When Kurogane met his eyes at the end, he blushed and turned his face to the wall to hide his expression.

"You should eat."

He sighed. "That's not just a suggestion, is it?"

"No. What do you want?"

"Anything is fine."

"All right." Kurogane's footsteps faded, but the door remained open, noise from outside filtering through the opening. The refrigerator door opened with a _pop_, jars and plates of leftovers knocking together inside. A pair of footsteps, light and even, crossed the linoleum, and the refrigerator closed, rumbling inside as it restored its normal internal pressure. The lid of a jar squeaked as it opened. Plastic crinkled. Something thudded against the countertop, and a moment later, a plate slid across one of its porcelain neighbors.

For the first time in days, Syaoran's stomach snarled with hunger instead of nausea.

A few minutes later, the sounds from the kitchen faded, and footsteps approached his bedroom. Kurogane nudged the half-open door aside, carrying a plate of food. Syaoran raised his hands to take the plate, then froze, eyes zeroing in on the food. The plate pressed against his fingertips, as cool as untouched bed sheets. He set the plate on his lap, staring at it.

_Sandwiches, _he thought, memories of their first weeks in this world flashing through his mind in a rapid slide-show. Packing sandwiches in plastic bags because he didn't want to leave his room. His lips brushing against Kurogane's in an impulsive, ill-devised mockery of a first kiss. The sound of the door splintering as he cowered on the other side. The moment he'd realized he'd dropped the sandwiches he'd meant to hoard in his desperation to escape.

And then finding his abandoned sandwiches in the fridge, salvaged by Kurogane despite his fury. Cradling them in his hands when he found them stacked on one of the shelves, as if they were something precious. _And they were, _he thought, grimacing as the back of his throat went dry. The only precious thing he'd had back then. The single most unexpected kindness he'd experienced since landing in this dismal world. And he'd never told Kurogane how much that had meant to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, pinching one sandwich with both hands. _For everything. _

Kurogane hesitated, perhaps sensing the significance behind the thanks. "Yeah, sure." He turned toward the door, resting his hand on the doorframe. "Your cast comes off tomorrow."

His head snapped up. "Really?"

Kurogane nodded. "It's been six weeks. You'll be able to switch to a brace and start physical therapy tomorrow."

He looked at the cast that had immobilized his leg for so long, then to the wheelchair that had confined him to the apartment. "I'll be able to walk?"

"Short distances. The doctor said the physical therapy would take a lot out of you. Even with the brace, walking might be too painful."

"I can do it." He picked his sandwich up again, a tomato slipping out of the stack as he lifted it to his mouth._ I'm going to get better. I'll be able to protect everyone. _He bit down, moaning as the myriad of tastes spread across his tongue—tomato, lettuce, cheese, mustard, ketchup, mayo. Seasoned by hunger. His stomach growled, demanding more.

A rare smile crossed Kurogane's face as he stepped into the living room. He left the door hanging open behind him.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Does anything in this chapter stand out as particularly symbolic? I try to avoid writing symbolism, as it tends to come across as too blunt if you're writing it on purpose, but midway through this chapter, it occurred to me that a certain object(possibly several) just seemed really symbolic of Syaoran's current relationship with Kurogane. Or I might be reading into my own writing too much. Huh. _

_Anyway, the sandwich-related memory was a reference to the first and second chapters of this story, in case you were confused. That's the downside to writing a story that you update chapter-by-chapter: your readers tend to forget details that you, as an author, meant to be significant. Unlike with my cruel OCs of a few chapters ago, I didn't mean for the sandwiches to come back as a plot point, but I thought it fit nicely here. I'm interested in hearing your thoughts on this chapter, so if you've got time, just leave a review below. Thanks!_

___Oh, and I forgot the mention this when I last updated, but I succeeded with my NaNoWriMo project. Final word count came in at 50,011 words on November 28th. I quit writing that story after that point because it was horribly written and full of cliches, but I am proud to declare myself a NaNoWriMo winner. It's taught me how important it is to write daily, lest progress slow to a crawl(my new goal: write 1000 words of an original story every day)._

_Side note: What's your favorite kind of sandwich?_


	64. Another Perspective

Chapter Sixty-Four

Cool air swept across his knee, as refreshing as a misty sea breeze in summertime. Syaoran laid back, his upper body propped up by pillows as Doctor Yamura examined his knee. "It's healing remarkably well," she said, her fingertips brushing over his kneecap. "You're right on track."

Fai grinned at him from the corner. "Isn't that great, Syaoran-kun?"

"It's a relief." He looked at his leg, trying not to focus on the fact that Fai had only come to make sure he and Kurogane didn't have a chance to be alone together. The skin of his injured leg looked paler than that of the other, though he didn't understand how that could be, when he didn't spend any time out in the sun anyway. _Maybe I'm going crazy, _he thought. _Maybe I'm already crazy. I must be, if I'm having panic attacks. _

"I'm going to go get the brace," Doctor Yamura said, setting her clipboard on her desk. "Wait here, please."

Syaoran watched her go, waiting for the staccato tap of her heels to fade before he turned to the others. Kurogane stood in the corner, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes focused on the tiled walls. Fai sat a few feet in front of him, his eye a bright, cheerful blue as he fiddled with a thread that had come loose from his sleeve. But rather than seeing a placid picture of domesticity, Syaoran saw iron bars standing between him and Kurogane, guarded by a one-eyed prison warden with claws as sharp as knives.

The thought of knives brought him back to the too-familiar memories of his tormentors' basement. Syaoran looked at his knee again, remembering the wave of nausea as the pain had registered with him, the irresistible need to scream, though his throat had already been raw after hours of sobbing and shouting.

Mokona picked up on his depression and hopped out of Kurogane's shirt, bouncing across the marble floor before landing on his lap. The white creature said nothing as she nuzzled his shirt, perhaps aware of the tension humming throughout the room. Syaoran rested a hand on her head, smoothing her floppy ears against her back until he heard Doctor Yamura's heels clicking through the hallway. Before the physician returned, Mokona hopped out of his lap and hid in the backpack Fai had brought to house her.

"This will allow you some flexibility," the doctor said, holding out his brace and maneuvering it underneath his injured leg. Syaoran shifted to accommodate the device. The metal chilled his skin, the cold reminiscent of cement. He shuddered as Doctor Yamura latched the pieces together. "Do you need another prescription for painkillers? I can arrange it, if you're still in pain."

"I'm fine."

"The physical therapy will cause you a fair amount of soreness."

"That's okay."

She frowned, her dark eyes sliding to Fai and Kurogane. She stood a little taller as she turned to them. "You two can head to the waiting room. We'll be done here in just a few minutes."

Kurogane's eyebrows slanted down. "Kicking us out?"

If the doctor was intimidated by the edge of annoyance in Kurogane's voice, she didn't show it. "If that's what you prefer to call it. Patient records are confidential, and I have some things to discuss with Syaoran."

His eyes narrowed further. Fai rested a hand on his arm, looking up at him with a grim expression. Syaoran watched a wordless conversation play out between them, consisting of irritated glances(mostly from Kurogane) and stern twitches of the facial muscles(mostly from Fai).

Syaoran allowed the silent argument to play out for several seconds before interrupting. "It's fine. I'll be out in a few minutes."

They both glanced at him, snapping back into their usual roles. A brittle smile crossed Fai's face. "All right. We'll be waiting near the entrance."

Kurogane crossed his arms again. "Fine." He turned away and walked out behind Fai.

Syaoran turned to Doctor Yamura, hoping to finish whatever needed to be done so he could get back to the others. "What do we need to discuss?"

Doctor Yamura took a seat at the edge of the bed, her face grim. "You've been through a great deal. How have you been managing?"

He shrugged. "I'm fine."

The assurance only made the corners of her mouth pull down. She tapped her pencil against the clipboard in her hands, biting her lip. After a moment, she looked over at him. "It would be understandable if, under present circumstances, you might be having difficulties. As I said when you first came in here, counseling may help you through the worst of it."

He shook his head. "I don't really need it."

"But a lot of patients benefit from having a support system."

His eyes flickered to the door, his thoughts piercing the walls and equipment between him and the waiting room. "I already have one."

"Mr. Fluorite mentioned that you had a pretty severe panic attack a few days ago."

He stiffened. "When did he say that?"

"We spoke while the nurse was prepping you to have your cast removed."

_Why? _Syaoran wondered, embarrassment washing through him at the thought of a total stranger hearing about his episode. _Why would __Fai__ tell __her__ about that? __He knows __the doctors can't help__—__they'd__ think I'm crazy. _"I didn't think he'd mention that."

She nodded. "And that is precisely the reason I'm speaking with you now. As a physician, it is my duty to ensure that my patients have the best chance of recovery possible. And there are certain environments that just aren't conducive to a good prognosis."

A thread of steel wove into his voice. "What do you mean?"

"We spoke a bit about how you'd been coping with this trauma."

_She knows. She knows about my relationship with Kurogane. _Panic sunk its claws into his back. He closed his eyes, hands curling into fists. "What did he say?"

"He mentioned that you stopped eating for a period of four days. Regardless of whether it was a lack of appetite or a statement against something or someone, it indicates some negative emotional trends in your behavior."

"I want to leave."

"You're going to have a tough time walking, even with crutches."

"I'll take the crutches," he snapped.

Doctor Yamura stood, her face impassive, holding her clipboard like a shield between them. "As a medical professional, I am required to ask: is everything all right at home?"

The lie came fast, automatically. "It's fine."

"Is it?"

He opened his mouth to yell, then closed it again, realizing his intensity would only deepen her skepticism. _You have to act rationally. You can't just yell and scream and hope to get your way. _He took a deep breath. "Everyone is taking care of me. Ever since I got hurt, they've given me everything I asked for." _Except the one thing I wanted most. _"And my recovery is going just fine."

The doctor's eyes narrowed, then closed with resignation. "There's no shame in leaning on those who care about you when you can't stand on your own. Ah, no pun intended," she added when his eyes snapped to his leg brace.

"I know that."

"There is also no shame in asserting your independence. As I said, you've been through a great deal; however, from what I've seen, you also yearn for independence. If you feel your companions are smothering you, there are better alternatives than locking them out of your room. And from what you've told me, the bumps in your emotional recovery are not rooted in mistreatment at the hands of your companions, but of the lack of communication in the household."

"Lack of communication," he echoed.

Doctor Yamura sighed. "I'll still recommend counseling because I do believe it would help. But if you aren't going to go for that, then you should at least make your wishes clear to your friends. Can you do that for me, Syaoran?"

He bowed his head, already feeling guilty for his earlier outburst. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been, how ready for a fight. A selfish, thoughtless indulgence. "I'll speak with them about it."

For the first time since the appointment had started, Doctor Yamura smiled. "All right then. I've got crutches all measured out, but if you'd prefer to keep using your wheelchair for a few more days—"

"I'll take the crutches."

"Excellent." She handed him the pair of crutches she'd brought in with the brace. "Let's head out."


	65. Walking Again

Chapter Sixty-Five

Kurogane and Fai hadn't killed each other in his absence. That was the only nice thing Syaoran could've said when he walked into the waiting room. They stood on opposite sides of the room, throwing glares in each other's directions whenever they thought the other wasn't looking, and when Syaoran walked in, they both rushed over as if whoever got to him first would claim some sort of victory.

"I'm ready to go back to the apartment," he said as Doctor Yamura pushed his empty wheelchair into the waiting room. Kurogane took it without a word.

"He'll be sore after his physical therapy," she said, handing Kurogane a pamphlet. "That includes more detailed information on what he'll need to do to get his knee functioning normally again. All of you need to read this and make sure everything gets dealt with. Understood?"

The ninja's expression soured. He opened the pamphlet, nearly ripping the shiny paper.

Fai spoke. "Do you want to sit down for a bit?"

Syaoran shook his head, remembering the doctor's words about asserting his need for independence. "I want to walk."

And walk he did, though his arms started to ache after half a block. Though the crutches were padded at the top to reduce discomfort, bearing the weight of his body with his arms alone made him sore. Still, he preferred walking over returning to his wheelchair, and he knew there was a bed waiting for him once he made it to the apartment.

As they paused at an intersection waiting for traffic to clear, Fai turned to him. "Are you sure you don't want to use your chair? It's a long way to the apartment."

A spark of annoyance bloomed in his chest at the vampire's concern. Not only had Fai gone behind his back and told Doctor Yamura about his panic attacks, but he still hadn't confessed to doing so. _And yet he doesn't want me to keep secrets from the princess, _Syaoran thought, trying to reconcile his anger with the fact that Fai probably intended to help him. But still, to just tell someone about that without talking to him first . . .

He couldn't accept that, he realized. Couldn't forgive Fai until the wizard admitted he'd made a mistake.

The light turned, and they crossed the intersection, the others flanking him on each side to keep other pedestrians from colliding with him. His crutches slid over the black ice, and twice, he nearly lost his footing. The second time, Kurogane caught him by the arm before he could fall, his hands warm even through the barrier of Syaoran's coat. Their eyes met, the thinnest of connections forming between them as they stood, unmoving, in the crosswalk.

Syaoran could feel Fai's eyes on the back of his neck. Watching. Waiting for one of them to slip up and prove his disdain for their relationship valid. Syaoran's heart quickened under the pressure to step back.

Because he didn't _want _to step back. He wanted to lean on Kurogane. And according to Fai, that was wrong.

"You all right?" Kurogane asked, when Syaoran didn't immediately regain his footing. Startled out of his reverie, he repositioned his crutches and started forward again, at half the pace of the pedestrians swarming around them.

Over his head, his companions exchanged a glance. And judging by the way Kurogane's knuckles whitened with tension, it wasn't a friendly glance.

They kept walking, pausing every few minutes when they reached busy intersections and had to stop. When their apartment building came into view, Syaoran let out a sigh of relief. The ache in his arms had gone from uncomfortable to overwhelming, his upper arms throbbing with every heartbeat. His knee, accustomed to the stability of a cast, had started to ache as well. _You __can't be immobile forever, _he reminded himself. _It__'s going to get worse before it gets better. _

They reached the front doors of the apartment building. Fai held the door for him while Kurogane waited on the sidewalk, ready to push the wheelchair in after him. Syaoran hurried inside, relieved to be off the treacherous ice and into the warmth. He crossed the lobby, his resolve renewed as they drew closer to the apartment.

And then he got to the stairs.

He paused, staring down at the door of their apartment. It stood barely ten feet away, but with almost a dozen steps between the doorway and where he stood, the distance seemed insurmountable. It felt like staring down a long, empty hallway in a horror movie. The dread, the apprehension.

Fai paused at his side, perhaps noting the same issue. A lump rose in his throat at the thought of asking for help. Kurogane had carried him down here last time, but with Fai standing guard beside him, Syaoran doubted he'd receive such assistance now. So he stood there, considering the safest way to descend the steps. There wasn't a railing, and his crutches were meant for level ground, so the only support he'd have would come from his good leg and the wall.

Right now, he didn't have faith in either of those things.

_Nothing you can do about it, _he reminded himself, leaning against the wall and tucking his crutches under one arm. _If you fall, you'll only break your neck. _He eased his good leg onto the first step, teeth pressing together with anxiety.

A hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him back up. "Don't even think about it," Kurogane said, drawing him away from the staircase. Their eyes met, and a jolt shot through his heart, part relief and part desire. His eyes flickered to Fai, noting the rigid line of his shoulders, the narrowing of his single eye.

Very deliberately, Syaoran took Kurogane's hand. "Can you carry me down? I'm not sure I can make it without falling."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Fai's hackles rise. His fingernails shot out two inches, sharpening as his eye yellowed. But he said nothing as Kurogane nodded. "Sure, kid."

Syaoran leaned his crutches against the wall, allowing the ninja to lift him up. Automatically, he wound his arms around the red-eyed man's neck, pressing his cheek against the ninja's collarbone. Kurogane froze, eyes darting down at his face.

Syaoran closed his eyes, going still. He felt, rather than heard, Kurogane sigh. Then his weight shifted, signaling the beginning of their descent. "Mage, come unlock the door."

Fai's voice was as brittle and frigid as ice over a pond. "Of course." His footsteps tapped down the steps after them, louder than usual. Syaoran's arms tightened around Kurogane's neck as the vampire strode past them to unlock the door.

If emotional coldness could've translated to physical coldness, the door would've frozen shut. As it was, it swung open with a faint creak. Kurogane carried him through, walking past the kitchen and pausing when they reached the living room. "You planning to sleep in bed or on the couch tonight?"

His bedroom was a few paces farther, which meant a few more seconds in the ninja's arms. And although he felt pathetic for having that line of thought, he said, "My bedroom, please."

Kurogane carried him the extra five steps to his bedroom, opening the new door and laying him on the crisp sheets of his mattress. Syaoran unwound his arms, hands lingering on Kurogane's shoulders a moment more. From the way the ninja quirked one eyebrow, the gesture wasn't lost on him. Syaoran looked down. "Sorry."

Kurogane sighed, closing his eyes. "Call if you need anything. I'll be around."

"Thank you." He pulled the sheets over his body, not bothering with pajamas. Even without the cast, the brace would make changing clothes complicated. And after his long walk, he felt too sore and exhausted to move around much. But he didn't sleep—didn't try to.

Instead, he pressed an ear to the wall and waited for the inevitable argument to begin.


	66. Compromise

_Author's Notes:_

_The posting of this chapter coincides with my dad's return from the hospital. With his return, I will soon be qualified to write about the injury-related things I've already posted, though I don't expect too many revisions. But the main reason I'm telling you all this is because I haven't really told any of my friends about my dad's surgeries, and I needed someone to talk to. So I talk to you readers. _

_Side Note: All I want for Christmas is a social life. And a bookshelf. A bookshelf would be nice._

* * *

Chapter Sixty-Six

Kurogane shut the bedroom door, took a deep breath, and turned to the mage. "All right. If you're going to say something, say it."

Fai's eye flashed to his face, as cold and dark as the center of a glacier. But instead of an accusation, the apartment resonated with silence. The vampire walked over to the kitchen, pulled two bottles of liquor off the rack, along with a pair of shot glasses, and set them on the coffee table. "Drink," he said, his expression unreadable.

_What the hell is he playing at? _Kurogane wondered, approaching the couch. He unscrewed the top of one bottle and poured some into each tiny glass. _He can't actually believe pumping me full of alcohol is going to change anything. So what's he doing? _He brought the first shot to his lips, downed it, then set the empty glass on the table.

From across the coffee table, the mage regarded him, face devoid of emotion. "Well?" Kurogane said. "You going to accuse me of something? Because I'm waiting."

"I'm thirsty."

He frowned, surprised by the statement. But the mage said nothing else, and after a moment, Kurogane held out his arm, wrist facing up. "Okay."

Fai bristled, as if he'd been looking for the opposite response. _Fine, _the ninja thought, fuming. _Then I'm not giving him any ammo. _

The mage's single eye glowed yellow. His throat swelled and collapsed with every breath. His arms wound around his torso as if he was struggling to hold his guts in. The look of a man fighting for control. And losing. Badly.

Kurogane sighed. "Mage, look: I may be an asshole sometimes, but I'm not going to let you starve. All you have to do is ask." _Not even that much, _he thought, still holding out his arm. _The implication is enough. _

The blood had seeped out of the vampire's face, leaving it as pallid as it had been in Tokyo. He lurched forward, claws shooting out of his fingertips. One dagger-sharp nail ran along Kurogane's wrist, deep enough to draw blood, but not so deep as to cut into a vital blood vessel. In an instant, Fai's mouth fastened over the cut, suckling blood away like a newborn suckling milk. Kurogane closed his eyes, wishing he'd taken Fai's suggestion to have a drink more seriously. It wasn't that having the mage feed on him was _painful_, though the initial cut always stung a bit. Mostly, it was just inconvenient.

But the idiot hadn't even alluded to being thirsty despite over a week without feeding. And Kurogane hadn't even thought to offer. Dealing with the wizard's constant antagonism had taken up a lot of his focus, sure, but his inattentiveness was still inexcusable. _You have responsibilities besides the kid, _he reminded himself. _You can't just forget that._

Fai drank deep, until the blood loss left Kurogane dazed. As the vampire released his arm and stepped back, he sank into the couch cushions, tilting his head back. The mage wiped his mouth, claws retracting. When he didn't say anything after a few minutes, Kurogane spoke. "So you're not even going to say anything about me carrying the kid downstairs?"

"He relies on you."

_Of course he does. _"So?"

Fai was quiet for a moment. Then he sat down on the edge of the couch, folding his hands on his lap. "You care for him."

"Yeah. And?"

"Do you love him?"

Kurogane bristled, then grabbed the liquor bottle again, pouring a shot for himself. Then a second, stalling as he tried to formulate a response. "Does it matter?"

"It might."

_Bastard still won't give me a straight answer, _he thought, annoyed. He poured a third shot and drank it as he thought some more. Finally, he said, "I don't know. Haven't thought about it much."

A few seconds passed in silence. Fai picked up the unused shot glass and drank deep, staring at the coffee table as if the patterns in the wood held some hidden meaning. "Do you think he loves you?"

He tensed, as wary as if he'd walked into an enemy encampment. "If he does, he hasn't said anything."

"But you understand people. You do," Fai insisted when he opened his mouth to disagree. "You understand people on an instinctual level. I don't think you could be ignorant of something like that."

Kurogane shrugged. "He might. He might not. _Love _wasn't part of the deal."

Fai chuckled once without humor. "You two would phrase it as a deal."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You might be able to call it a deal and live with that. As long as that connection was reliable and unchanging, I could understand that working for you. But Syaoran-kun needs more than that, and if you're not going to give it to him, you shouldn't lead him on like this."

"I wasn't leading him on. He wasn't about to let _you _carry him down the stairs—hell, he probably weighs more than you do."

Fai paused, seeming to consider that, then nodded. "Fair enough."

"And if you think we didn't define our deal better than that, then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought. We did it because it suited us, not out of love." Frustrated, he knocked back another shot. The alcohol burned down his throat, coiling in his stomach.

"Kurogane, when was the last time you were in love with someone?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't fall in love."

"So, never?"

"Never." The word reverberated with finality.

"That's . . . actually sort of sad," Fai said, sipping at the edge of his shot glass.

"Why does any of it matter to you?" Kurogane demanded. "You're not going to change your mind. You're too fucking stubborn. So why bother asking?"

"Why indeed?" Fai met his gaze for the first time since the beginning of his conversation, frowning. After a moment, he leaned back, rubbing his thumbs against the condensation clinging to his glass. "I think I'll go shopping tomorrow," he said. "We're running low on bread, and Sakura-chan could use some new clothes—she's nearly outgrown the ones we started out with."

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. Was the bastard actually trying to bait him into sleeping with the kid while he was out, just to prove a goddamn point? "Just what kind of game do you think you're playing?"

"I'm amenable to compromise, Kurogane. I'd prefer one of you tells Sakura-chan what's going on if you two decide to resume your previous . . . activities. But expecting you to do that is unrealistic, and I can't stand over your shoulder for the rest of this journey. The road ahead of us is too long."

"Why the change of heart?" he demanded. There _had _to be some ulterior motive. Was the mage going to try to catch them in the act, incriminate them somehow? Was he going to lead the princess back early and let her find out that way?

"Some things have come to light," Fai said simply. "And when things move forward again, it will be . . . _inadvisable _for us to be at odds with each other."

Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "You got anything more specific than that?" he asked, a hint of danger seeping into his voice.

Fai poured himself another shot. "No. That's all I had to say." He stood, not swaying at all despite the alcohol in his system. It had to be magic, Kurogane decided—no one that skinny ought to have such a high alcohol tolerance. A subtler kind of magic than what he'd seen so far, but that was the only explanation. The mage walked over to their shared bedroom, then paused at the door. "I won't try to dictate your actions anymore. All I ask is that you extend the same courtesy to me."

_Saving your ass by striking a deal, _Kurogane thought, seething. Damn, the wizard could be an _idiot_ sometimes. Still, it wasn't the sort of offer he could afford to turn down. Not with the kid falling apart in the next room. So he said nothing as the door closed between them.

* * *

Fai perched himself on the edge of the bed and folded his hands in his lap, breathing hard, torn between what he'd chosen and what he wished he'd chosen. _But then, you've lived your entire life in constant regret, _he thought bitterly. _So why should this matter? _

It didn't matter, he decided. Being stern hadn't helped. It had only driven Syaoran into a deeper hole. The casual affection between the boy and the ninja had remained, though with distinctly platonic overtones. Whatever they chose now, it wasn't up to him. _And it never was. Should have never been. You can't even handle your own decisions. _

He sighed, holding his head in his hands. A constant ache pulsed in his temples, a counterpoint to the pain spearing through the back of his head. Part of it was thirst, he knew, and that pain faded as Kurogane's blood worked through his system. The other part was sleep deprivation. Nightmares had plagued him every night for the past month, and they were only getting worse, more vivid.

So vivid, in fact, that some of them intruded on his waking thoughts, eclipsing them as Ceres's two moons sometimes eclipsed the sun. And when Chi's voice had come to him, warning him of his king's awakening, every second had felt like a nightmare. _We have to start moving again, _he thought. _I have to keep running. __I have to do _something_. _

He ran his fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his head, pulling loose strands from his scalp. The golden wisps wound around his fingers like strings plucked from a violin.

Fai rested his face in his hands, resolving to move forward, whatever it took. He was fated to betray the others—the least he could do was give them a few days of happiness, even if it would backfire later. Not that there was going to be a later. Not for any of them.


	67. Alone Together

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Syaoran waited for Fai to leave, trying to distract himself with the collection of books he'd been reading and re-reading since his first trip to the hospital. _I really ought to buy these instead of collecting late fees from the library, _he thought, frowning to himself. _It would probably be cheaper._

A knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his reverie, and his heart jumped with renewed hope. He reined it in, knowing that Fai wasn't yet out of the apartment. Regardless of the conversation he'd eavesdropped on last night, he wasn't about to act on any intimate impulses when the others were in the building. "Who is it?" he called, voice hoarse, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper along the inside of his throat.

"Sakura-chan and I are heading to the market to stock up," Fai said, his voice a mix of forced cheer and unease. _Trying to accept what's going on between Kurogane and me, _Syaoran thought, guilt replacing the flare of hope as the magician went on. "Is there anything you want us to pick up?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll see you soon." _Or not. _

The conversation ended there, though he could still sense Fai's presence beyond the door. Fai could've walked right in if he'd wanted to, since Kurogane hadn't installed a lock on this door. Could've walked in as if the closed door held no significance at all. But instead, Fai wandered away. A moment later, the front door opened and closed, the others' footsteps vanishing like an orchestra fading into silence.

Syaoran waited a few minutes, then grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the wall and limped over to the door. There he paused, wondering what would happen when he walked out into the living room. He'd had little opportunity to speak to Kurogane since Fai had seen them kissing, and even before that, they'd been distant. Truthfully, he had no idea how the ninja would react to his presence. _Better to find out now than to go on without knowing, _he told himself.

Syaoran opened the door and stepped into the living room.

* * *

Kurogane seethed, mistrustful of the mage's apparent acceptance of his relationship with the boy and the unsubtle cue for them to get to it. And when the kid hobbled into the living room, a fresh sprinkling of guilt settled over the frustration. "What is it?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level.

The boy hesitated, cheeks flushing pink. "I overheard what you and Fai-san talked about last night."

_What a surprise._ "What of it?"

Syaoran flinched, biting his lip. "I . . . Does it change anything?" His voice quavered with uncertainty.

Kurogane's eyes narrowed. He walked over to the kid, took his chin between his fingers, and tilted it up so their gazes met. "That's not entirely up to me."

Something sparked in the boy's eyes, and the flush in his cheeks deepened. "Do we need to talk about this?"

"No." _Let's make this simple. _His fingers knotted in the boy's hair, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The boy's eyes flew open. "Yes or no?" Kurogane demanded, his free hand clamping around the kid's arm. The air between them hummed with intensity as he pressed Syaoran against the wall. The boy's crutches scraped the sheetrock.

The kid stared at him for half a second, arms rigid. "Fai-san said—"

"I don't give a shit what he said." He tilted the kid's chin up with his finger. "I'm asking _you_: yes or no?"

Syaoran's eyes widened. Tentatively, he placed a hand on each of Kurogane's sides, just below the ribs. Kurogane stifled the instinctive urge to block the movement—always stifled his instincts when it came to this. A pair of brown eyes panned up to his face. The corner of the kid's mouth twitched, his hands tracing the subtle curve of his hips, every touch just as hesitant as the first time they'd gone this far. "I'm not sure," he whispered, bowing his head.

Kurogane stepped back, reining in the pent-up frustration, struggling to put it away even as its claws cut him to ribbons. Still, it remained, pacing in its cage, itching to slip past the rusted bars of his self-control. He turned away, stalking over to the couch and glaring at the cushions.

_Damn it, _he thought, breathing deep to dispel his anger. He'd spent _weeks_ keeping his emotions separate from his actions, trying to ignore the sizzling frustration he'd felt when the mage had ordered him to keep his distance from the kid. And maybe if that had been all, he could've kept that emotion in check better now. But that wasn't it. What bothered him, what _really _bothered him, was the fact that the wizard had manipulated the boy with some stupid, irrelevant ultimatum in which the kid had no choice but to obey.

Most irritating of all was the fact that Fai probably had no idea how fucking controlling that was.

Faint footsteps bounced against his eardrums. He half-turned to see the kid standing behind him, his expression caught between worry and discomfort. Kurogane noted how he leaned to the left, resting his weight on his undamaged leg. _It's never going to get better if he doesn't start using both legs again. _He opened his mouth to say as much, then clamped it shut when he saw the kid stiffen in expectation of a reprimand. When none came, the boy's body relaxed. "Would it be a one-time thing, then?" Syaoran asked. "If we did this now?"

Kurogane bristled. "Do you want it to be?"

"I don't want Sakura-hime to find out." His eyes flickered to Kurogane's face, then away.

"Fine." He stepped forward, grabbed the kid by the arms, and leaned forward, tracing Syaoran's lower lip with his tongue. Those lips parted under his touch, and he deepened the kiss, one hand curling in the kid's hair as the other found Syaoran's waist.

Briefly, he wondered what the mage would do if he walked back into the apartment and saw them tangled together like this. Whatever the wizard had said, it would be a fucking miracle if he'd follow through with it. Kurogane shoved the thought aside and pressed Syaoran against the back of the couch, jeans sliding against the metal rods in the boy's leg brace. His knee would be nearly healed by now, though it would take more physical therapy to get him back to his previous agility. Still, the joint had healed enough that Kurogane didn't worry much about damaging it. He moved his hand lower, fingers massaging Syaoran's thigh around the brace. The boy groaned, leg tensing.

Kurogane slid his hand upward, drawing back to gauge Syaoran's reaction. His eyes flew open, then fluttered closed again. His pelvis jerked as a moan broke through his control. _He needs this, too, _Kurogane thought, their lips crashing together again. This kiss was more aggressive than the last, the shyness absent from the boy's motions. Kurogane parted his lips, letting Syaoran move in. A cool wet pressure danced across his lower lip, then went deeper, becoming desperate. The boy's body tensed, relaxed, tensed again.

Kurogane broke the kiss, breathing hard. "Bed. Yours. Now."

Syaoran nodded, sliding away. They were halfway to the door when Syaoran paused. "There's lotion in the medicine cabinet." Crimson crept across his cheeks. "If you think we might . . . need it?"

Kurogane took the hint, changed direction, stepped into the bathroom. He flung open the doors to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the off-white bottle of lotion sitting in the back of the cabinet, making careful note of where it was so he could put it back when they were done. Desperate or not, it paid to be discreet.

When he made it back to the bedroom, he found Syaoran waiting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Kurogane paused, worry twisting through him when the kid didn't look at him. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the issue became clear. Syaoran had folded his hands over his lap, hiding the bulge straining against his shorts.

Kurogane resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. Like he hadn't figured out how to make the kid respond by now. The kid's shyness had always puzzled him a little—not the shyness regarding the act itself, or even the affection, but about his physical reactions. By this point, Kurogane figured, the next step should be obvious, not something to hide or be ashamed of. But then, he figured the kid had always been a little ashamed of this, despite his assurances that he was fine. He walked over to the side of the bed, grabbed the kid's wrists, and pulled them out of the way, revealing the bulge in his pants. Syaoran turned his face to the wall.

"Don't be ashamed of it. It's part of the process."

"I know."

Kurogane set the bottle of lotion aside and pushed down on the boy's shoulders until he sunk into the sheets. He shifted until they were both lying lengthwise across the mattress. Arms splayed, Syaoran looked up at him. "What do you want me to do?"

He sidled forward, pinning the boy under his weight. He stripped off his own shirt, tossed it onto the floor, and then did the same for the boy, leaving them both half-exposed. Cool air ran its fingers down his back, a sharp contrast to the warm body underneath him. He leaned forward so his lips were at Syaoran's ear. And because he meant it, he said, "I want all of it. I want you."


	68. An Almost Confession

_Author's Notes:_

_Warning: smut in this chapter. You know, in case you hadn't guessed already. However, this is the stage in the story where if you're skipping the sex scenes, you're going miss out on some important relationship milestones, so when something comes out in later chapters that ties back to this, you may be a bit baffled if you haven't read these(I still give you permission to skip them if you choose, as this scene is marginally more explicit than the other sex scenes that have been in here, due to being in Kurogane's POV)._

* * *

Chapter Sixty-Eight

_"__I want al__l of it. __I want__ you."_

Shock flitted across Syaoran's face, the uncertainty returning. Before he could say a word, Kurogane kissed him, fierce and demanding. As Syaoran's lips parted, Kurogane unlatched the buckles holding his leg brace together. The boy jumped, a hand coiling around his wrist. "No."

"It'll get in the way." He unfastened the second buckle, freeing the brace so it would open like a briefcase.

Syaoran shook his head. "I can't."

"It's not like your knee is going to break again."

"What if it does? I've already been stuck here long enough without complications."

"It could use the exercise." The brace popped open under his fingers, revealing the vulnerable flesh beneath. The kid had lost some muscle mass in this leg; his thigh felt almost delicate under Kurogane's fingertips.

Syaoran stared at his exposed knee for a long moment, his expression strangely broken, as if he'd just witnessed something awful and had yet to regain his capacity for speech. When Kurogane felt the tremors running down the kid's body, he understood. "You're remembering it, aren't you? What happened in that basement."

"No," he said, too quickly.

"You are." Kurogane shifted so their faces were only a few inches apart. Syaoran stared at him, the blood seeping out of his face. "They can't hurt you anymore—you don't have to be afraid."

Syaoran shook his head, eyes squeezed shut.

"What happened to you back there was horrible. I know that. I know you have nightmares about it. But I will _always _protect you. I will always come looking for you. I won't leave you to die."

"I know."

"Then what's the problem?" he demanded.

"What if things change?"

Kurogane stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You say you'll protect me, and I do believe you, but . . . What if, someday, you decide it's not worth it anymore?"

"That's ridiculous."

"No, it isn't!" The boy flinched at his own voice, eyes flashing open. "Wherever I go, I bring trouble. It happened in Clow, and in Tokyo, and even in this world. The fact is that I'm a lot more trouble than I'm worth. So I'm grateful you want to take care of me now—more grateful than you could ever know. But I can't be sure things will stay this way. Especially not when I consider all of _this_."

"_This_ being _what_?"

"Us. What we did. What we're doing now. When we started, I thought you were doing it out of pity, or because I needed it. And then, I started to think that maybe it was something more than that—"

"It _was _more than that." _It made you happy, _Kurogane thought, not sure why that realization made his throat ache.

"But you pushed me away. First when Fai-san started getting suspicious, and again after he found out. You just kept pushing me away."

"I had to. You know that."

Syaoran flinched. "I know. I didn't want Sakura-hime to find out. Of course not. I knew the consequences. But I . . . There was a part of me that wished we'd stood together anyway. I wanted to be with you, even though it was selfish, even though Fai thought it was wrong. But you just kept avoiding me, so . . ."

"So what?"

"I thought . . . I just thought that maybe you would've wanted to stand by me. That you might want to fight for what we had. It was wrong of me to expect that of you, but I wanted you to. And you never did."

Kurogane sat back, stunned into silence. He hadn't expected this outpouring of desperation, hadn't thought things through well enough to predict it. _I should've expected this, _he thought, frowning. _I should've known. It never _was _about sex. He wanted me to love him. _

His knuckles skimmed across the kid's cheek as he laid down by his side. And for a while, the only sound in the room was the whisper of their breath. Kurogane stared at the wall, processing everything he'd been told. The kid had a way of softening him. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd been frustrated, ready to pin Syaoran to the bed and fuck him, consequences be damned. It seemed strange that the loss of control on the boy's part had helped him rein his anger in. Strange how they balanced each other out.

"I'll have to think about this one," Kurogane said, breaking the silence. Syaoran's eyes flickered to his, and he explained. "You don't want the princess to find out about this. We still have to be careful."

"Okay."

"And I _will _stand by you, if that's what you want, but she'll find out eventually."

"I know." His cheeks glowed deep red. A furrow formed between his eyebrows, and Kurogane recognized the look of his face. Thinking. Prioritizing. Syaoran looked at him. "But I want to do this now, before she does."

He nodded, then laid a hand on the boy's waist. "All right."

Silence filled the air again, resonating like the vibrations left after a chord. Syaoran shifted closer to him, thigh pressing against Kurogane's hip as the brace slid off the bed, landing with a thud on the cushion of clothes. Kurogane felt the tentative touch of the boy's lips against his throat, the invitation of Syaoran's skin against his. Permission without words. He hooked the boy's waistband with his thumbs and slipped his shorts off, repeating the movement a second later with his underwear. Syaoran nuzzled his neck, nose skimming across his collarbone.

Kurogane slipped off the rest of his clothes and grabbed the lotion off the bedside table. "You sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure. It should be easier with the . . . you know."

"Right." He looked down at the bottle. _No way to make this less awkward, _he decided, pumping the handle until the lotion curled over his fingers. He set the bottle aside, shifting closer. Syaoran rested a hand on each of the ninja's shoulders, bracing himself. As Kurogane slid one finger into the puckered opening near his tailbone, Syaoran shuddered. "You want me to stop?"

"No." He shook his head rapidly, as if to clear it. His cheeks, already red, burned brighter. "Actually, that feels kind of . . . good."

Kurogane slid his finger deeper, paying attention to the way the kid's body contracted and easing up when his soft mewling turned into something less pleased. Still, despite its tendency to make things awkward, he couldn't fault the lotion's effectiveness. Syaoran moved with him, not cringing away as he had the first time they'd gone this far, and it took only minutes to slip a second, then a third, finger inside him. When the boy's breaths increased in tempo, Kurogane withdrew. "Turn over," he said, his lips grazing the boy's earlobe.

Syaoran said nothing, rolling gingerly to avoid hurting his knee. Kurogane leaned forward, pressing his lips against the back of Syaoran's neck and running one hand down his back. "Ready?"

"Yes."

He rocked forward, pushing inside the tight opening. The boy tensed, closing around him before relaxing again. Syaoran's fingers coiled in the sheets, but except for his rapid breathing, he didn't make a sound. Kurogane eased up, withdrawing partially before plunging in again, deeper. A muffled groan escaped Syaoran's throat. "You all right?" Kurogane asked.

"I'm fine," Syaoran gasped, dragging his blunt fingernails across the sheets. Kurogane penetrated deeper, pausing when a moan broke past Syaoran's control. He withdrew half an inch, giving the boy a moment to adjust. Syaoran's hands clamped around the edge of the mattress, knuckles turning white as he gasped like a dying koi. Still, the boy kept moving, obviously trying to coax a response out of him.

Kurogane's hands trailed down Syaoran's hips, holding him in place. He planted a kiss on the boy's spine. "You don't have to try so hard. Just let go."

"K-Kurogane-san . . ." The boy craned his neck to look at him. "I . . ."

"Yes?" They were almost still now, their bodies barely twitching.

The boy hesitated a moment, his expression growing even more uncertain. His cheeks turned red again, as if he'd developed a sunburn. "I just . . . I wanted to say . . ." He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line.

_No, _Kurogane thought, his blood pressure jumping in expectation of the next words. "I know," he said quickly, trying to stop the oncoming confession before it passed the kid's lips.

"Oh." Syaoran looked down again. "You know?"

Kurogane let his fingertips trail down the boy's ribs in a desperate attempt to soothe him. "It's all right," he said. "Don't be ashamed of anything." _Not even that._

Syaoran took a deep breath and shifted under him, hips gliding upward. Kurogane repressed a groan as he slid deeper into the hot, tight opening. "Okay," Syaoran said, voice strained. "Does that mean you . . . feel the same way?"

_Damn it, _he thought, exhaling through his teeth. "Do we really have to have this conversation right this second? I thought we were in the middle of something."

The boy tensed, tightening up. "Oh. Right. Later then."

Kurogane closed his eyes and pushed deeper inside, hoping the sensation would drive away the knot in his stomach. His thrusts started slow, then increased in tempo as the lotion worked through the opening. The boy's gasps came quicker, then turned into moans, then cries of pleasure, each thrust going deeper. "Kurogane-san . . . please," he groaned, pressing his face into the pillow.

The ninja's fingernails raked across the boy's back, palms coming to rest on Syaoran's hips as he drove forward. Fire twisted through his abdomen, a collision of pleasure and pain. He thrust it aside, fingertips digging into Syaoran's thighs. Their bodies quivered with barely-controlled need.

Syaoran let go first, a strangled cry breaking through his lips as warm, sticky fluid ran down the front of his legs. His body, too thin and lacking the muscle mass he'd had before he'd broken his knee, trembled with the aftershocks. Kurogane thrust forward again, nearing the edge. Beneath him, Syaoran groaned, gripping the sides of the mattress for support. Kurogane felt the staggering release, like a wildfire raking across his skin as he finally, _finally _let go.

He froze there a moment, then withdrew, knees going weak as they always did in this most vulnerable moment. Drawing on all his willpower, he rolled off to the side and wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close. Stillness settled over them, a sharp contrast to the intensity of a moment ago.

When the aftershocks ceased, Kurogane spoke. "Was it better this time?"

Syaoran nodded against his chest, breathing hard. "Yes. The lotion helped."

"Good." He pressed his forehead into the boy's hair, inhaling his familiar scent, letting the disorganized spikes prickle against the ridges of his eyebrows. Syaoran's hair smelled like upturned earth after a rainstorm. "I missed this."

Syaoran stiffened. "Really?"

He pulled back, registering the pleased surprise in the kid's voice. "Yeah. 'Course I did." Missed the sex, of course, and the feeling of a warm, eager body under his. But it was more than that. He missed the intimacy of letting his lips graze Syaoran's forehead, of pressing his face into the kid's hair. He missed having someone kiss him back with as much fire as he did, just like he missed the tender kisses afterward.

_I must be going soft, _he thought, holding the kid against his chest and listening as his breathing slowed. When Syaoran nuzzled his collarbone, he let out a sigh, brushing the kid's hair back. "How's the knee?"

"Not bad. I should probably put the brace back on." He started to pull away. Kurogane kept him close, readjusting their positions so he could reach the metal brace from the floor. He slid Syaoran's leg onto the device, making sure everything was in alignment. Then, with a gentleness that surprised even him, he pressed his lips against Syaoran's kneecap and let the brace close over it.


	69. A Fragile Peace

_Author's Notes:_

_Again, more smut in this chapter. I realize this is probably more KuroSyao smut than is strictly necessary, even for those of you who enjoy this pairing, but I figured since so few others write KuroSyao, I should at least write in some extra smut for those of you who want it. It doesn't start until the second section of the chapter, though, so even if you plan to skip it, you can still read the first part of the chapter._

* * *

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Fai couldn't deny the improvement, though he wanted to. When he walked through the door, shopping bags hanging from each hand, he saw Syaoran sitting on the couch, holding a bowl of ice cream and watching television. His crutches leaned against the arm of the couch, easily accessible in case he wanted to get up and walk around. And when he turned his head to look at Fai, the faintest of smiles pulled at his lips. "Welcome back."

Fai stood in the doorway for several seconds, thrown off-balance by the casual greeting. His eye darted over to Kurogane, perched on the opposite end of the couch, a towel laying over his moist hair. He'd changed into a new shirt, Fai noticed, though like most things in Infinity, this one consisted of black and white fabric stitched together with exaggerated seams and unnecessary zippers.

"We're back," Fai murmured, forcing himself to move. Sakura walked in behind him, carrying two of the lighter bags. As they started putting their groceries away, Kurogane walked over, picked up a bag of canned goods, and started stacking things into the cupboards.

Fai bit back the question on his tongue. After a few minutes, he picked up the last bag and turned to Sakura. "We'll take care of the rest."

Her eyebrows slanted back, confusion dancing in her eyes. But after a moment, her steely control slid back into place. "All right." She turned and walked to her bedroom, her gait almost graceful despite her permanent leg brace. _One leg, one knee, and one eye, _Fai thought, his mind flashing to all the recent tragedies. _How did we ever get so crippled? _

He stacked the last few cans on the shelf, watching Kurogane from the corner of his eye as he tried to think of a way to bring up whatever had happened while he'd been out. He settled for honesty. "Syaoran-kun seems happier."

Kurogane nodded, as if the statement carried no significance.

Fai hesitated a beat, then continued on to his question. "How did you manage it?"

The ninja exhaled sharply. "How do you think, idiot?"

He looked away, a lump rising in his throat. _It's worth the discomfort if it makes things easier on Syaoran-kun, _he reminded himself, though the image that had popped into his head had been decidedly disturbing.

When Fai said nothing in response, Kurogane looked at him. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "Don't mention it," he said, and prayed that Kurogane wouldn't.

* * *

Kurogane wondered, sometimes, if the boy had become codependent in some ways. The kid glowed when praised, but wilted when he didn't receive that approval. But then, wasn't that true of most kids? Didn't they _rely_ on receiving approval as a guideline to proper behavior? _But he's not _really _a kid. Not mentally._

He chalked it up to a need for companionship more than a desire for approval. Kurogane wasn't about to withdraw from the kid and push him back into that depression. Maybe the kid sensed that, or maybe he was still glowing after their last hour alone. Either way, he ate meals at regular intervals and spoke with the mage and the princess. Which was pretty damn forgiving, Kurogane thought, since the mage had been the one making the kid miserable a week ago. And when the wizard deemed it was time to restart his daily walks with the princess, Kurogane knew the idiot had forgiven them both enough to leave him alone with the boy again.

It happened within two minutes of the others' departure. Syaoran walked out of his room, crutches tapping against the cement, and sat on the arm of the couch, less than a foot away. Before Kurogane could ask the boy if he wanted to do anything, Syaoran leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of his neck. "What the—" Kurogane began.

"Please?" Syaoran asked, his coffee-colored eyes focusing in on Kurogane's face.

_How the hell does he _do _that?_ Kurogane wondered, his resistance crumbling as he turned his head to brush his lips across the kid's eyelid. Syaoran crawled into his lap, their thighs pressing together in a rhythm Kurogane had come to anticipate. He let his self-control slide away, burying his face in the boy's hair as his movements grew more insistent. And when Syaoran knelt between his legs, Kurogane closed his eyes and decided that there was no point in trying to stop this now.

Syaoran was a quick study. Kurogane knotted his hands in the boy's hair as the moist, warm cavern of Syaoran's mouth closed around his length. Within seconds, he was panting, jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine and spreading through his veins like lava. When a spasm of release shuddered through him, he let out a moan.

The kid didn't cough or gag this time, only tilted his head back and swallowed. Then, without a word, he stood up, retrieved his crutches and went to the bathroom, where he proceeded to brush his teeth.

Kurogane didn't miss the fact that the kid hadn't said a word since the initial kiss.

The second time it happened, Kurogane initiated the exchange. The kid had already been sitting on the edge of the couch when the others left for their daily walk, munching on an apple the mage had bought on his shopping spree. Kurogane just laid a hand on the back of Syaoran's head and let his fingers comb through the boy's hair. The kid responded within seconds, discarding the apple and sliding into Kurogane's lap the same way he had before.

This time, Kurogane didn't wait for the boy to shift gears. He wrapped his arms around the kid and rolled, pressing him into the couch cushions. Surprise flitted across Syaoran's face as Kurogane stripped off his pants and slid his palm along the inside of the boy's thigh.

The kid lasted about five minutes before Kurogane had him whimpering with release. Afterward, he wet down a washcloth from the bathroom and wiped away the milky seed clinging to the boy's skin so it wouldn't drip onto the cushions. They spent the rest of their hour watching reruns of some police show.

The third time it happened, Kurogane decided it was time to talk about it, regardless of how awkward the conversation would be. So as soon as the mage and the princess went out on their walk, he walked over to the boy's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Syaoran called from the other side. The door swung open as he pushed through, allowing the light from the living room to flood into the bedroom. Syaoran sat, already on the bed, stretching out his injured leg in accordance with his physical therapy guidelines. "I'm almost done," he said. "I've got five minutes of stretching left for the evening."

"All right." He hovered in the doorway for a moment, then closed the door behind him. He walked over to the boy and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching the kid flex his damaged leg. He noted the range of movement, the grimace that flashed across the boy's face every few repetitions, the way the blood seeped out of his face when he bent his knee just a bit too far.

Kurogane waited, a model of patience, until Syaoran met his eyes. Before he could think of anything to say, the boy's lips were on his, their breath mingling together. Instinct clashed against reason, and he allowed himself to sink deeper into the kiss, accustomed to letting those simple touches build into something more. The boy's hands framed his face as he slid closer. His good leg swept across Kurogane's knee as they settled into a more intimate position.

Kurogane pulled back, repressing a wince at the look of hurt that flashed across Syaoran's face. "Weren't you worried about the princess finding out about this?" he asked. The kid had to realize that the more often they did this, the more likely they were to get caught.

Syaoran's eyes darted off to the side before returning to his face. Kurogane arched an eyebrow. "Yes, but . . . She and Fai-san will be out for a while, won't they?"

"You shouldn't bet on that."

"But we've done it while they were gone before."

"Yes. We have." His hand slid down Syaoran's back. The casual intimacy of the touch seemed to reassure the boy, and he leaned forward again.

This time, the boy's lips grazed his collarbone. "I like being with you."

The words sent twin pangs of relief and worry through him. He pressed his cheek into the kid's hair. "The last two times, you've barely said a word."

"Oh. I didn't realize."

_No. You've been avoiding the subject. _Kurogane pushed the kid into the mattress, lips tracing the boy's neck, his jaw, his mouth. "You can tell me if something's going on," he said, wondering if he'd been wrong to ignore the boy's near-confession when they'd slept together a few days ago.

"I know. I'm fine." He moved in for another kiss. Kurogane grabbed the kid's shirt and started pulling it up, baring the skin beneath. Syaoran shivered. "It's cold."

"I'll warm you up." He discarded his own shirt, then his pants, then everything else. And this time, their bodies flowed together like molten lava, every movement slow and fluid. And sweet. Sweet in a way that made his chest ache despite grating against his sensibilities. And when it was over, he pulled Syaoran into his arms and held him.

It was enough, he decided. Being able to hold onto the kid after all the shitty things that had happened to them in the past few months. It meant something. It meant everything.


	70. To an Empty Room

Chapter Seventy

The intensity frightened him sometimes.

Syaoran laid in his bed, body flush against Kurogane's chest as the aftershocks pulsed through his body. A sheen of sweat clung to his shoulders and back, making his skin sticky. It had been three weeks since Fai had discreetly stepped aside and allowed them to be together like this, and Syaoran couldn't deny that he'd taken advantage of the silent permission. They'd slept together nearly every opportunity, their liaisons ranging from tender to desperate to painful. He'd fallen behind on his recommended physical therapy in favor of a newer, more pleasant sort of exercise. And, to his surprise and relief, the uncomfortable mechanics of the act had eased, becoming almost painless as his body had grown used to them.

"We should get dressed," Kurogane said, sliding away and dangling his legs over the edge of the mattress. Syaoran crawled out of the way and tossed the sheets toward the foot of the bed. He'd pull them back into place later. He leaned forward, searching for his clothes among the pile of discarded sheets and unwashed laundry, then sighed as he realized he'd need to wash laundry tomorrow. _Maybe if I split my __clothes__ into separate baskets, it won't seem so heavy, _he thought. Though his leg had strengthened enough for him to walk without crutches, he still preferred not to put too much weight on it.

"The princess wants to know if you'll be okay to start going to chess matches again," Kurogane said abruptly, pulling his jeans up.

Syaoran bit his lip, trying not to wince at the thought of how much trying to fight would hurt. But they needed the tournament money to keep their apartment, and his medical bills hadn't been cheap, despite their tournament-provided health insurance. If Sakura was pushing them to start attending chess games again, it probably meant that they were running low on funds. "All right."

"You sure you're up to it?"

He nodded. "We've been stalled for a long time now. We have to at least try to move forward."

Kurogane regarded him for a long moment, then rested a hand atop his head. "Take it easy, all right? We don't need anyone getting hurt."

Again, he nodded, hearing the worry in Kurogane's voice. "I will."

The ninja tousled his hair and stood. Syaoran bit his lip, fidgeting on top of the mattress. Just as Kurogane grabbed the doorknob, Syaoran spoke. "Wait."

"What is it?" Kurogane asked, looking back.

Syaoran stood and walked over to him, his leg aching after today's exercise. Uncertainly, he let his fingertips trail across the ninja's arm, looking up at him as he struggled to decide what to say. Whatever they had now, it was more than a physical connection. Yet he couldn't accurately identify their bond as pure friendship. It made him wonder if he should've said something more the day they'd slept together after Fai had eased up. "I . . ." he began, the rest of the sentence catching in his throat.

Kurogane arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Yes?"

_What happens if you say it? _Syaoran asked himself. _What if it's a mistake? What if things change? _"I just . . ."

The ninja's eyebrows slanted down with impatience. "Spit it out."

_Say it, _he told himself. _Say it. Because if it's true and you don't say it, someday you won't have a chance to. _He opened his mouth, then closed it, losing his resolve. Rather than saying anything, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the ninja's, just taking a moment to be near him, to treasure what they had. _  
_

"You all right?"

"I'm fine," he whispered, throat tightening. As his vision blurred, he pressed his face against the ninja's chest and wrapped his arms around the man's torso. "I'm f-fine," he repeated, hating the tremor in his voice, the weakness.

Kurogane ran a hand down his back. "'Fine,' huh?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. After a moment, the ninja's arms wound around his torso. "Was it too rough today?"

Face flushing, Syaoran shook his head. "No. No, it's not that. It's just . . . What we have . . . It's important to me." He shivered. "So important that I don't know what I'd do if it changed." _If I was the one to change it. If I pushed it too far or made too much out of it. _

"It doesn't have to change."

"I know," he said, feeling stupid and irrational. Because there was a part of him that _wanted _it to change into something more. Something like what he'd felt around his Sakura before he'd turned back time. And that scared him.

For once, Kurogane didn't press him for more. He just held Syaoran until his embrace loosened, then drew his fingertips across his cheek. "Is that all, then?"

"Yes. That's all," Syaoran lied. He closed his eyes, took a breath, then looked at the ninja's face. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Kurogane planted a kiss on his forehead, then opened the door and stepped into the living room.

As the door closed between them, Syaoran wrapped his arms around his chest, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Love you, too," he whispered into the empty room.

* * *

A dagger sailed past his leg and cracked one of the tiles as it struck the floor. Syaoran looked up, his attention straying from his primary opponent as his eyes zeroed in on the rangy man who'd thrown the knife. In the time it took to look that way, his other opponent, a girl with bleached hair, darted toward him, a serrated blade in each hand. Syaoran shifted stances, wincing as his weight shifted to his healing leg, then raised his strong leg so his heel crashed into the girl's collarbone. She staggered back, nearly dropping one knife as she pressed a hand to her chest. Before she could regain her bearings, Syaoran rushed forward, intending to cut her tournament collar off so she'd be eliminated from the match.

He didn't quite manage it. Just as he was about to strike, her arm jerked, bringing her weapon within inches of opening his throat. Syaoran reared back, grunting when he hit the ground. Instinctively, he rolled, avoiding a fatal stab wound. The girl's knife still managed to slice through his shirt sleeve, drawing a line of blood from his upper arm. _Not good, _he thought, planting his feet and shooting back up into a fighting stance. The movement sent a jolt of pain through his knee that nearly toppled him, and he bit his lip hard to suppress a yelp. Another dagger streaked past his face, so close he could hear the blade parting the air. He jumped back, the pain in his joint reaching a peak.

A black figure stepped into the space between him and his opponent. Syaoran tensed, raising his weapon, then lowering it again when he recognized Kurogane. The ninja intercepted the blonde's next strike and carved a deep gash across her abdomen with his tournament-approved sword. Blood splattered the arena floor as the chess-master for the other team held up a hand in surrender.

"Match over!" the announcer declared. "Victory to the Black Team."

Applause reverberated through the stands, making the floor vibrate. At once, Syaoran sat, the sharp pain in his joint easing as he took his weight off it. The arena's medical team rushed in, pulling the injured girl onto a gurney while some of the interns went around the battlefield checking for other injuries.

"You all right?" Kurogane asked, turning to him.

"I'm fine." He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, trying to focus on that sensation alone as the pain in his leg abated. One of the medical interns approached him, crouching down to examine his knee. "I'm all right. It's an old injury."

She frowned, but backed off. Syaoran forced himself to stand, resting his weight on his good leg.

"Here," Kurogane said, extending one arm. "Lean on me."

He looked at the ninja, then at Fai, standing across the arena. Despite the blond's quiet permission regarding their other activities, he doubted Fai approved of any of this. _He probably thinks Kurogane manipulated me into this, _he thought, throat tightening as he leaned against the ninja' side. Kurogane's hand rested on his shoulder, holding him in place. As they started walking toward the elevator leading back to the prep room, Fai's gaze settled on them. Hastily, Syaoran averted his eyes, turning his face toward Kurogane's chest as they descended to the main floor.

Not a word passed between them as they split up to head into their individual changing rooms. Syaoran slipped out of his collar and pulled his coat over his shoulders. He sat on the bench for a moment, closing his eyes. Perhaps it had been too soon to return to the arena, but at least none of his companions had been seriously hurt. _That's something to be thankful for, _he thought, grabbing his crutches from where they leaned against the wall. He'd brought them in case he'd hurt his knee in the fight, though he hadn't actually expected to use them, since he'd been walking without assistance for over a week now.

He brushed the curtain separating his room from the main room aside and headed toward the door to wait for the others. Fai, Kurogane, and Sakura each emerged from their changing rooms, collars and chains absent. They headed out into the lobby.

"Are you going to be all right if we sign up for another match next week?" Sakura asked, regarding him with her usual aloofness.

"Sure. Of course." His grip tightened on the crutches, but he said no more as Sakura towed Kurogane along to sign them up for another match. Kurogane could read Infinity's written language with ease, and after spending months working through books from the library, Syaoran had become fairly proficient with it as well. The Other had encountered similar language in his travels with Fujitaka, which meant that he hadn't started from scratch. _It's lucky I can read this language, _he thought. _Otherwise what would I do all day? _

He frowned, face warming as he considered what he'd have _wanted _to be doing, had he been unable to read. Or rather, what he _would _be doing if Fai and Sakura didn't spend twenty-three hours a day in the apartment. _This level of obsession can't be healthy, _he thought, chewing on his lower lip. Absorbed in his thoughts, it took him a moment to realize Fai had been staring at him since the others had walked over to the participants' desk. "What is it?" he asked, shrinking back.

Fai regarded him for several seconds. "How's your leg?"

"It's fine."

"You're using your crutches again."

_You wouldn't approve of the alternative, _he thought, remembering how Fai had looked at him when he'd leaned against Kurogane on their way out of the arena. "It's nothing to worry about," he said, wondering if Fai heard the double-meaning in his words.

Fai's gaze flickered to the others, who were still busy doing paperwork as they set up their next match. After a moment, Fai looked down. "I'm sorry."

Syaoran flinched, mouth falling open. "I don't understand."

"I misjudged the situation. I didn't intend to make things worse for you. I meant to help."

His throat tightened. "I know."

Fai hesitated for a moment, biting his lip. Then, voice dropping to a murmur, he spoke. "He cares very deeply about you. I don't know if you would consider it love, but . . ." Again, he paused, weighing his words. "I rescind my ultimatum. You don't have to tell Sakura-chan about it unless you want to."

Syaoran froze, suspicion bubbling up under his skin. Fai was lifting his ultimatum? Openly? Syaoran had come to regard the magician's silent permission as an opportunity. Initially, he'd even suspected that Fai had allowed them the freedom in order to catch them off-guard later. He'd lost hours of sleep worrying, wondering when that unspoken permission would end, thinking Fai would one day cut his evening outing with Sakura short and expose his secret in the most humiliating manner possible.

Fai must've read the suspicion on his face, because he sighed. "I mean that. If that's the path you're going to choose, I'm not going to hold it against you. Just . . . I don't want anyone to get hurt over this. That's all."

"Why the change?" he asked.

Fai closed his eye. "It seems like our journey becomes more perilous with every world we fall into. If it ends . . . abruptly, I'd prefer us to be on good terms with each other."

Disquiet stirred in his stomach. "Are you _expecting _it to end abruptly?"

"No, no. Of course not. I just don't want to take the chance." He looked toward the others, smiling as they approached. "Are we all set?" he asked Sakura.

"Yes. Next Tuesday, at the usual time."

_Eight days, _Syaoran thought, feeling a strange tremor of premonition. The timing seemed ominous somehow, like a looming deadline for him to heal. His eyes slid over each of his companions' faces. His gaze settled on Fai, their brief conversation echoing in his ears.

_It's only another chess match, _he reminded himself, as they started for the doors. _What could possibly go wrong?_

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_That last sentence should go on a list __titled "Things Fictional Characters Should Never Say." Anyway, Merry Christmas to all my loyal royal readers. As a present, I've decided to accept one request for a oneshot - any pairing, idea, or plot - for the Tsubasa Chronicle archives, so if you have anything you want me to write that can fit into a oneshot, submit your request in either a review or a personal message, and I will consider it my next project. _

_Guidelines for idea submissions:_

_1. I'd prefer not to write KuroFai, but if enough people want me to, I will._

_2. I will accept crack pairings or plots._

_3. I will not make things deliberately Out Of Character, even for cracky situations. So crack is acceptable, but if you want Kurogane to break into song, you're going to be disappointed._

_4. You may submit numerous ideas, even after I've written the oneshot-if I like the idea enough, I'll write an extra oneshot when I have time._

_5. If you so desire, I will write side-stories or post-stories on things I've already written in the fandom._

_6. I will only accept one idea/pairing/plot for this oneshot, but may eventually write others._

_7. I will give you credit for the request/idea, even if I don't use the idea until later._


	71. Breaking Point

_Author's Notes:_

_I'd like to thank all of you who submitted ideas for oneshots - you all had great ideas, and I wish I could do all of them. My first selection is nearly finished, so you can expect that within the next few days(I shall leave my decision a surprise until then). But the ideas were so interesting that I'm actually compelled to try several of them. When I have time, I'll write and post those ones._

* * *

Chapter Seventy-One

Syaoran spent the next eight days acting as if there was an hourglass counting down the seconds until the next chess match. Mornings he spent either in his room or at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with his companions. Their shared meals remained tense, the silence a pressure on his eardrums. Fai fidgeted, shifting his weight in his chair and nibbling at food he didn't need to survive. Sakura ate the same way she usually did—with great dignity and few comments apart from the quality of the food. Kurogane ate fast, plowing through his meal as if they were racing to clear their plates.

Afternoons were harder. A late breakfast meant no defined lunchtime, and there was little to do apart from chores. Between the four of them, every countertop, cabinet, floor, and miscellaneous surface gleamed as if polished. And since Mokona's translation range extended only about two miles, no one strayed from the immediate area unless necessary or habitual. Not that conversation flourished while they were _in _Mokona's range, but still.

Syaoran lived his life in the snippets of time he had when the others left the apartment.

He entered the living room, as usual, when Mokona, Fai, and Sakura headed out for their walk. And, as usual, Kurogane glanced over from his seat on the couch, his gaze almost expectant as Syaoran crossed the distance between them. He sat on the arm of the couch, letting his elbow brush against Kurogane's shoulder. The ninja reached over, fingertips tracing the fine hairs of Syaoran's arm, smoothing them down.

There was no need for words. Syaoran turned his head, his lips exploring the line of Kurogane's jaw, becoming more desperate as he moved down his neck, then across his collarbone. He paused there, nuzzling the hollow of Kurogane's throat with the tip of his nose as his fingers searched for the bottom of the man's shirt. When he found it, he slipped his hands underneath, running his fingers along the ninja's plated abdomen.

"Quick to the point, aren't you?" Kurogane muttered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. Syaoran shifted, pressing his lips against the ninja's mouth. The kiss deepened, became desperate, as his tongue skimmed across Kurogane's lower lip. He felt fingernails scraping his scalp. Sparks of pain danced across his head, and he instinctively pressed closer, seeking the comfort of the warm body beneath him. His hips wriggled, his body repositioning itself.

Kurogane bit him.

Syaoran drew back, shocked. His lower lip retreated into his mouth, his tongue running across it as he tried to determine if the bite had drawn blood. The taste of iron spread across his tongue. "Kurogane-san—" The torrent of words halted as Kurogane's mouth moved against his. Syaoran closed his eyes, unsure whether to draw back to examine the bite or to give into the instinctive desire to keep going. It took him a few seconds to decide. "What are you—"

"Don't talk."

"You bit me."

"I know." Kurogane's hands swept down his sides, falling onto his hips and pulling him forward. A second later, Syaoran felt the Kurogane's tongue move across his neck. He jumped, wriggling free.

"Wait," he said, panting. "Just hold on." He paused to breathe, a strange mix of panic and pleasure shooting through his veins. "Are we . . . I mean, did something change?"

Kurogane arched an eyebrow, frowning. Syaoran instantly regretted asking. "Why would anything have to change now?"

"You just seem very . . . active today." The word seemed inadequate somehow, considering the way his pulse had jumped at the unexpected bite.

"You've been doing the same thing all week."

"I have?"

"You didn't realize?"

He shook his head.

Kurogane sighed, closing his eyes. "It's probably a bad idea to complain about this, but you've come to me every day since the last chess match. It's like you're trying to satisfy some need you won't talk about."

"I . . . oh."

Another sigh. Kurogane placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arm's length. "You know you don't have to hide anything from me, right?"

_Except for one. _He looked down, face warming. "I know."

"So tell me why you've been acting so desperate for the past week."

Syaoran bit his lip, reopening the tiny nick left by Kurogane's teeth. "I . . ." His throat closed up. How could he describe the unease, the insecurity, he'd felt since the last chess game? It had been gnawing at him for days now. It felt like he'd jumped off a cliff hoping to sprout wings on the way down, except that he still couldn't fly, couldn't even slow his descent as he careened toward the unforgiving pit beneath him.

_Eight days_, he thought, feeling the same stirring of disquiet he'd felt in the arena when Sakura had scheduled their last match. _And seven of those days gone now. _His breath caught. Surely, he was being ridiculous. It was only a chess game. The possibility of injury was always present, of course, and he couldn't deny that some pain still lingered in his knee that would make fighting a challenge, but it wasn't as if the world was going to collapse all around him.

Kurogane crossed his arms, still waiting for an answer.

"I'm not hiding anything," Syaoran whispered, not sure if that was the truth or a lie. There were things he hadn't mentioned, such as the fact that the Sakura traveling with them now was a clone, and the way he'd turned back time, but he wasn't actively _withholding _those truths. They just hadn't come up. Not that anyone else would've known to ask. _Not that anyone would've wanted to, _he thought, wrapping his arms around his torso.

"Don't," Kurogane said, resting a hand on each of his shoulders and tugging him back into the present moment. "Don't close up on me like that."

"I don't . . ." _I don't know what's wrong. I don't know how to fix it. _

_I don't even know who I'm in love with anymore. _

The thought shook him. He jerked free of the ninja's hold, jumping to his feet and retreating until his calves hit the coffee table. "I have to go," he whispered, arms crossed in front of him as he clutched his sides, as if he could physically hold himself together.

"Kid, wait."

Syaoran started for the door, lungs seizing up as if he'd filled them with sand. He grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and stuffed his arms through the sleeves. A moment later, Kurogane grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around so his shoulders pressed against the wall. "Wait," he said. "Just talk to me."

"I can't." _I don't know what to say. _How could he know? Before, he'd always been certain, always known who he'd been fighting for. _But if I can't choose between them . . . How could I save either of them, if it came to that? If I had to choose . . . I can't have it both ways. It's not fair to either of them. _His throat closed up. He tried to slip his arm free of the ninja's grip.

"Kid."

"I have to go."

"_Syaoran_."

His breath caught. His eyes zeroed in on the ninja's face. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Syaoran," Kurogane said again, his voice soft. Something shook loose in Syaoran's heart. He gasped in a shaky breath as the ninja closed the space between them. His heart, already bruised and beaten, fractured into bloody shards.

Kurogane kissed him, his lips desperate, demanding. "Syaoran . . ."

Thumbs traced the curve of Syaoran's cheeks, wiping away the tears. His chest heaved as Kurogane pulled him close. Syaoran had never felt like such a child, even when he could've been called one. "Kurogane-san . . ."

"Don't leave."

"I have to."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do." He pulled back, wiping an arm across his face. "I can't be here right now. I can't think."

Something flickered through the ninja's eyes, disappearing before Syaoran could identify it. Kurogane stepped back, releasing him as if he couldn't quite follow what was happening.

Syaoran zipped up his coat and started for the door, not daring to look back. As he opened the door, Kurogane spoke. "If you're not back by sunrise, I'll come looking for you."

Syaoran swallowed thickly, bowing his head. "Thank you," he whispered as the door closed behind him.


	72. Emperor Penguins

Chapter Seventy-Two

_What the hell did I do _now_? _Kurogane wondered as the front door closed. He'd barely had enough time to assure the kid that he'd come looking for him if he wasn't back by sunrise. _I shouldn't have let him leave at all. He's going to get himself into trouble, wandering around at this hour. _

With a sigh, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of liquor from the shelf. To hell with it. If the kid was going to wander around the city, he'd enjoy his hour alone. He unscrewed the plastic cap, poured it into a tall glass, and brought both the bottle and the glass over to the coffee table. He sat, snatching the remote from the armrest, and turned the TV on. But even after scrolling through the menu half a dozen times, he couldn't find anything that looked distracting. Frustrated, he settled on a documentary about penguins and took a deep drink of alcohol.

The mage and the princess returned an hour later, as expected. Kurogane ignored them, knowing the princess probably wouldn't notice the boy's absence, and that the mage would wait until the girl retired to her room to ask questions. _That conversation is going to be a fucking nightmare, _he thought, pouring himself another glass of liquor to prepare himself. _Bet he's been waiting for this. Probably going to scold me like I'm some stupid kid. Bastard. _

"I'm going to go to bed," the princess said after a few minutes of shuffling around. Kurogane kept his gaze focused on the television, but his stomach clenched. Damn. He'd hoped the princess would wander around for a while longer, give him enough time to get drunk enough to deal with the mage.

"Goodnight, Sakura-chan," Fai said, in the indulgent tone he usually favored the princess with. "Sleep well."

The girl gave a soft murmur of acknowledgment, then stepped into her bedroom and closed the door. Within seconds, the vampire strode over to the couch and sat down, setting a clean glass on the table in front of him. Without a word, he picked up the clear bottle and poured himself a shot.

Silence settled over them as Fai sipped from his glass. Kurogane glared at the television screen, refusing to spark the conversation. If the mage wanted to annoy him, he'd have to make the first move.

"I didn't realize you found emperor penguins so disagreeable."

Kurogane looked over. "What?"

The wizard pointed at the television. "Your glare nearly burned a hole through that poor penguin's head."

If his glower had been piercing a moment ago, now it sharpened like an ax ground against a whetstone. "Maybe I don't like penguins."

Fai paused for a moment, seeming to consider that. His lips pulled up into a faint smile. "Amusing as this is, I think it's time to drop the penguin metaphor."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The magician's smile faltered. He set down his shot glass. "Where did Syaoran-kun go?"

"How the hell would I know? I'm not his keeper." Kurogane snatched the bottle from where it sat and filled his glass to the brim. "He left about an hour ago. I don't know where he went." He took a long drink, letting the liquor burn down his throat and settle in his stomach.

"Did you two have a disagreement?" the mage asked after a moment.

Kurogane shrugged.

Silence passed between them. Fai poured himself another shot, swirling the clear liquid around in the glass before taking a drink. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." He turned his face back to the television, watching as a cluster of penguins huddled together on a block of ice, balancing oversized eggs on their feet. Though he'd never seen such animals in Nihon, he'd been on this journey long enough to recognize creatures from other climates. Once, it had pained him to realize how insulated his home country had been, compared to many of the world's they'd visited. Now, the idea was just a dull ache. Just one more thing to be depressed about.

Fuck.

"Everything was fine." The words came out in a rush, fueled by frustration. "I shouldn't have said anything. I should've just let him talk to me on his own terms. But I knew there was something bothering him." More than that. He'd known what it was, known it was something he'd have never brought up on his own. And he didn't want to hear it—didn't even want to think about it—but maybe the kid needed to say it.

_And maybe_, Kurogane thought bitterly, _I pushed him away too many times_. "It bothered him," he continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What he wasn't saying." _What I wasn't saying. _"It hadn't gotten too bad yet. He's still better than he was a few weeks ago."

Beside him, Fai winced.

"But it was wearing on him. I could see that. I thought getting him to talk about it would help, so I asked. And he just closed up on me."

Fai arched an eyebrow. "Do you mean that figuratively or literally?"

"Are you trying to get hit?" Kurogane demanded, rising to his feet.

The vampire raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "Just asking."

Kurogane stalked over to the television and jabbed the power button. The screen went black. The living room fell silent. "He left after that," Kurogane said quietly, the anger draining out of his voice and leaving behind an hollow place. "I told him that if he wasn't back by sunrise tomorrow, I'd come looking for him. I wanted him to know I'd always be looking out for him. And then he left."

Fai regarded him from the couch for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, setting his shot glass on the table. "You care deeply about him. So deeply that it hurts you when he won't see it."

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Ten minutes ago, I still believed what you two had was something more based on convenience than genuine emotion. I told Syaoran-kun I wouldn't make him tell Sakura-chan about what was going on. I thought if I lifted the ultimatum, he'd be less inclined to hide this from her." He hesitated. "Being honest when the truth hurts is more difficult than any outsider could know. And being honest with yourself is harder still. I'd believed that if I took away the restrictions, the consequences, then Syaoran-kun wouldn't feel like he needed you in that way."

Fai looked up. "I see now that I was wrong. It's not convenience that motivated either of you. Or, if it was, it's not anymore. You love him."

His knuckles turned white as his fists tightened. He opened his mouth to argue, then grit his teeth, remembering that the princess slept only a room away. _Or maybe she's not sleeping, _he thought. _Maybe the mage told her everything while they were out. Maybe she's sitting by the door and eavesdropping on this conversation right now._

"And he loves you."

Something inside him fractured, as if some critical cable holding him together had snapped. His shoulders slumped. "You don't know that."

"But you do. Don't you?"

He shook his head. "Who would be stupid enough to love me?" he said, every word dripping scorn. "Who would be reckless enough, masochistic enough, to fall in love with _me_?"

Fai winced. "You underestimate yourself."

"Bullshit." He turned his back on the magician, glaring at the wall as if his anger would just drain away. "I fucked up the one good thing I'd found since we landed in this world. The _one_ thing I was trying not to fuck up. So don't you _dare _tell me who I care about. I don't want to hear it." He walked over to the bedroom he shared with the mage, grabbed a pillow and blanket from the wizard's bed, and tossed them into the living room before closing the door and locking it behind him. Bastard could sleep on the couch tonight, for all he cared.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_So, it appears I've run out of pre-written chapters again, which means I have to take another break to get ahead(as well as catch up on my other fics). Again. I also have some oneshots to write, so I will be getting to those over the next few weeks while I work on everything else. Anyway, I will start posting for this story again in February, and hopefully I won't have to take any more breaks from it after that. Please rest assured that I am in no way abandoning this fic, or any of my other fics - I am simply buying a bit of time(updating every three days may not seem like a strenuous schedule to some, but I'm in the middle of over half a dozen fics right now, including one that I was working on with a co-author who can no longer find time to write). Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed or will do so in the future. See you all in February!_


	73. Anxiety

_Author's Notes:_

_And . . . We're back. I managed to store up a decent amount of chapters over the month, so hopefully I won't have to take another break(though if I do, I'll try to shorten it up some). And since it's been awhile, here's a recap: Syaoran believes Kurogane can't/won't fall in love with him. Fai believes Kurogane and Syaoran love each other already, and though it makes him uncomfortable, he's starting to accept their relationship. Kurogane vehemently denies being in love or being loved. Sakura doesn't know anything about Syaoran's relationship with Kurogane. Plot-wise, Syaoran just left the apartment to get away from the chaos and conflict raging in his heart, and there's a chess match coming up soon. And that should about cover it. Talk about drama . . ._

_Oh, and those oneshots I promised - I'll be getting to them soon. There was a bit of delay because I got some inspiration to write for _Reversal of Fate_, which has priority, but I still plan to finish the oneshots I promised._

* * *

Chapter Seventy-Three

Syaoran did the most rational thing he could think to do: he went to the library.

Ice cracked under his feet as he walked, weakened by rising temperatures. Though the groundskeepers shoveled Infinity's sidewalks, frequent snow and sleet created a crust of ice that yielded only to the arrival of Spring. Symbolically, Syaoran knew, Spring represented rebirth, life, growth, while winter symbolized death.

It made him wonder if writers ever realized how absurd the concept of symbolism was. Springtime didn't mandate happiness. Children born in Spring fared no better than children born in other seasons. Even the weather, supposedly bringing warmth and renewal, left the dead grass soggy with thawing ice, the sidewalks treacherously slick. So why did poets and novelists and songwriters equate Spring with all those positive feelings?

_I'm criticizing centuries of literature because I'm miserable, _he thought, sighing. _How pathetic. _The library doors parted for him as he approached. A warm cushion of air enveloped him, driving away the faint flush in his cheeks brought on by the crisp air.

"Ah," the librarian said, nodding in his direction. "Our young traveler has returned. Tell me, have you brought any books back with you this time?"

His lips pulled up a bit. After so many visits, he'd come to recognize most of the librarians by face, if not by name. _She said she liked me because I always brought back books eventually, _he remembered. "No. Are they due already?"

The woman shrugged. "You've got another week. If you're planning on returning them on time, that is." Her papery lips pulled into a smile.

"I will." _I should've brought them with me, _he thought, wishing he hadn't left the apartment so abruptly. Then again, perhaps it was better that he hadn't stopped to think. If he'd stayed, he might've said something he'd have regretted later. _Better if I sort through all this alone._

"Looking for anything in particular?" the librarian asked.

He started to shake his head, then hesitated. _Why did I come here? _he wondered. _To figure out what's wrong with me? To relax? To think? _He frowned. "You mentioned last time that you had some self-help books," he said slowly. "I was wondering where I could find those."

Surprise flitted across the woman's face. She adjusted her spectacles, a habit that reminded him of his clone's adoptive father, Fujitaka. "We have a fairly comprehensive section on that down that aisle." The librarian pointed toward a row of nonfiction books. "If there's something specific you're looking for, I can do a search on the computer."

"No, that's all right." He looked down. "I'm not precisely sure what I'm looking for yet, but it might clear my head just to look around." To search. To discover. The same things that had motivated his clone. _But I'm not him. Maybe that's why I'm so confused. _He _was always sure of his path. He always knew who he loved. _

His chest tightened. He hurried down the row, hoping to distract himself among the hundreds of self-help books. His eyes scanned shelves of titles, with books like _Living with Schizophrenia _and _How Stress Affects your Love Life. _Paperbacks and hardcovers, shiny and plain paper, solid text and pages with pictures. Yet none of them caught his attention. All those books, all that knowledge, all that support, and still, nothing sparked his interest.

He closed his eyes, refocusing. There was _always _something to be learned. _I just have to know what to look for. _He inhaled. _So what's the source of the problem?_

Syaoran considered that. Tonight, he'd pushed Kurogane away. Their stable, easy companionship had faltered. _Why? Where did it start to go wrong? What was different about tonight?_

The answer appeared in his mind in an instant. Change. The rhythm of it had changed._ I wasn't in control anymore. _He frowned. He'd relinquished control before, allowed Kurogane to set the pace. Even if he hadn't liked the change, voicing his displeasure would've been enough to reestablish a comfortable pattern. _But I didn't do that. __And Kurogane said that I've seemed more desperate than usual. So I'm the one who upset the balance._

He grimaced. That hadn't been the conclusion he'd been hoping to draw, but what else could it have been? Kurogane was stable. He had a temper, true, but he also had set ways of doing things. His patterns were familiar, expected.

_Yes. It must be me. I changed something, and now those ripples have turned into waves. _He froze, the ramifications of that slamming into him. _And there was only one thing I wanted to be different. _

Syaoran slumped, collapsing to his knees and holding his head in his hands. "No," he groaned, feeling as if someone had just kicked him in the chest. "No, no, no . . ." _This can't be happening. How could I let it come to this? How could this have happened without me even realizing? _

In his mind, he replayed snippets of what had led up to it. A reckless mockery of a kiss. A broken door. Sandwiches. Another kiss, real this time. _It can't be. Can't. This shouldn't happen. _Callused fingertips, brushing against his face, his neck, his ribs. Trust. Darkness. The bed. His bed. And a feeling like wildfire clearing away all the guilt, all the shame, so that for one minute, he didn't feel miserable.

Then something more. Kisses both tender and demanding. A growing desire to feel those hands on his body, to feel them _everywhere. _And all the while, losing focus. Spending time curled up in Kurogane's arms instead of searching for this Sakura's feathers. Time spent not thinking about _his _Sakura, but instead relishing in the touch of another person's hands. And not regretting it. Not regretting it for a second because he needed that touch the same way he needed air. To breathe. To feel. To live.

To love.

_I love him. _

His lungs rattled as if he'd contracted bronchitis. His arms wound around his torso, his already-broken heart ripping itself apart even further. His throat constricted until he couldn't breathe.

A quiet sob broke through his control. Just one. Just one, and he crumpled where he knelt, silent tears streaming down his face.

_I love him, _he thought. _And he doesn't love me back._

* * *

Kurogane couldn't sleep.

He wanted to chalk it up to years of restlessness, of worrying over Tomoyo-hime's safety, of sitting outside, waiting for demons to storm Shirasagi Castle. His body seldom rested, so it had adapted to less sleep. He wasn't that tired, anyway.

He could've accepted that, if he hadn't known it was a lie. He knew why he couldn't sleep. Talking to the mage always gave him a headache. The only difference this time was that the words wouldn't stop echoing in his ears.

_"You love him," _the mage had said. Calm. Confident. Like there was no question about it. _Bastard. Can't even make up his mind, and he's acting like he knows more about this than I do. _He grit his teeth, rolling over under the sheets. _What does he know? He only found out about this a few weeks ago. _

He shifted again, burying his face in his pillow in a futile attempt to muffle the thoughts beating against the inside of his skull. It didn't help. The same questions kept coming back, whispering in his ear like a malevolent spirit. _Why did you let the kid go? Why hasn't he come back yet? Why aren't you looking for him?_

He rolled again, then forced himself to stay still for a few minutes. Sleep never came to the man who refused to hold still. Then again, the same could be said for the man who couldn't quiet his mind and relax. Even calling on all his experience with meditation, the anxiety hovered over him, buzzing just loud enough to drive any chance of sleep away.

_Maybe I should start looking for him now, _Kurogane thought, opening his eyes to stare at the door. A sliver of light peered through from the bottom of the door, coming from the living room. The mage was still awake. _I'll only prove his point if I go out there now. _

The thought bothered him. When had he become so petty that proving the idiot wrong was more important than the kid's safety? Then again, the boy would probably return soon anyway. It was pointless to lie awake waiting for him. _So sleep, _the logical part of his mind whispered. _You'll need to be well-rested if you have to go looking for him at sunrise. _

Outside, he heard the creak of the front door. In an instant, he leapt to his feet, walking to the bedroom door in near-silence. He pressed his ear against the wall, listening.

"Welcome back, Syaoran-kun," the mage said, voice only slightly muffled by the walls. The kid must've returned the greeting in some nonverbal way, because after a moment the mage spoke again."Where did you go?"

"The library."

_Naturally, _Kurogane thought.

"Find anything interesting?"

"Not really." There was a pause. "Fai-san . . . Do you know anything about love?"

Kurogane froze, pulse pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. _Love. _Why did it always come back to love? Why was that word so important to the kid now, when he'd never asked about it until recently?

Why did the word fill him with a sense of guilt when once it would only have annoyed him?

"Why do you want to know?" Fai asked after a long moment. Kurogane pressed his ear more firmly against the door, listening.

"It's just . . . I'm curious about some aspects of it."

Another pause. "What aspects specifically?"

"I was wondering . . . if love is permanent. If there's a way to fall _out _of love."

_Fall out of love? _The words echoed in Kurogane's mind, like the phantom chime of bells. _Is he talking about the princess? Or . . . _The magician's earlier words came back to him. _Is the kid actually in love with me? _

Outside, the mage spoke, voice subdued. "Love changes, but I don't think it ever goes away. You might fall out of romantic love, but I have to believe you'd still care for that person on some level."

"I . . . see."

"Is there something that sparked your curiosity?"

Kurogane listened more intently. Perhaps he could salvage their relationship. Maybe he could convince the boy to stay at his side.

He stopped, frowning to himself. Salvaging the relationship? Convincing the kid to stay with him? _What the hell is wrong with me? That wasn't part of the deal. _He ground his teeth together, but stayed silent, still listening.

"You can tell me what's going on," Fai said. "Kurogane seemed worried about you."

"He did?" the boy asked. Even a fool would've heard the spark of hope in his voice, and Kurogane was no fool. "You . . . You two talked about me?"

"We did." Fai chuckled. "Kurogane got very angry and stomped off to bed, and now I have to sleep on the couch because he locked the door."

_Bastard, _he thought. _I should've kept my mouth shut. Of course he'd go blabbing about it the first opportunity he got. _

"I see," the boy said. Kurogane could imagine how his shoulders would curl inward, how his eyes would stray to his feet. "He was angry about me leaving."

Kurogane reached for the doorknob, then rolled his eyes as he remembered he'd locked the door on his way in. He unlocked the door and stepped into the living room, shoulders stiff.

The others turned and stared at him, going still, like rabbits being stared down by a wolf.

Fai recovered first. "Kurogane, I didn't realize you were awake."

He scowled, but otherwise ignored the mage. "Kid, can we talk?"

The boy continued staring at him. His bottom lip trembled, and his eyes clouded over with something Kurogane recognized from years fighting off enemy assassins: panic. "You were listening? You heard?"

_Shit. Should have seen this coming. _"Yes. Look, that's not—" He broke off, stunned into silence by the moisture trailing down Syaoran's cheeks. _Shit. I made him cry._ Instinctively, he reached out to comfort the kid. As soon as his fingertips grazed his arm, the boy bolted, fleeing into his room and slamming the door behind him.


	74. A Reason to Lie

Chapter Seventy-Four

"Kid, wait!" Kurogane called as the bedroom door slammed. He twisted the knob, but the door held. _How is that even possible? I got rid of the damn lock when I replaced this door! _"Open up."

"Go away." The kid's voice trembled.

The mage hurried to his side and rested a hand on his forearm, nudging it away from the door. "Give him a minute. He's emotionally vulnerable—"

"Oh, shut up." He grabbed the knob and twisted, shoving forward. This time, the door gave way easily, nearly hitting the wall as it swung open. Kurogane staggered inside, thrown off-balance by the lack of resistance, then blinked when he saw that the boy's bed was empty. "Kid?"

A soft sob drew his attention to a lump of sheets on the floor. He approached, then saw how the kid had shrouded his body in his bedsheets as if to hide himself. Kurogane glanced back to see Fai frowning from the doorway. The mage's frosty expression bothered him for about half a second before he sat beside the kid. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

_Oh, bullshit. _He rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Syaoran turned away from him, facing the wall. "Come on, kid. Tell me what's wrong."

"What's _wrong_? You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"You don't love me, and I don't love you."

The words ripped at him like daggers, a sharp, unexpected pain. Not only because the words themselves hurt, but because he'd heard them before. Months ago, he'd been the one to say them. They'd been practically the last words he'd said to the boy before those bastards had kidnapped and tortured him in that basement.

"Kid . . ."

"Unless something's changed," Syaoran said suddenly, not meeting his eyes.

_He's trying to get me to say it, _Kurogane realized. _He needs me to tell him I love him. He needs proof. _He hesitated, working through the different outcomes of this conversation. If he said it, would things change? Would the kid even believe him after so many months without hearing it?

Would it be a genuine declaration of love? Or would he be saying it just to appease the kid?

Syaoran took his silence as a negative. "It's all right. I wasn't expecting you to change your mind."

"That's not—damn it, can't you see that there's nothing either of us can do to change the other's mind?"

The kid flinched, his breath catching. Kurogane sighed. "If you want me to say it—if that's _all _you want—then I will. If you want me to fake it for you, I will. But what I feel is up to me, not you. So don't bother trying change it."

The boy said nothing, only curled up into a tighter ball. Kurogane walked out the door, closing it behind him.

From the arm of the couch, the mage spoke. "You really don't know how to be happy, do you?"

He glared. "Don't be stupid."

Slowly, Fai slid off the edge of the couch, rising to his feet. "You once told us that the Tomoyo of your world sent you away so you could find the meaning of true strength. Have you considered what that might be?"

He shrugged. "You wouldn't know the answer any better than I would, considering the fact that you won't even _talk _about what happened to you."

Fai bristled, but otherwise ignored the remark. "What if Syaoran-kun truly does love you? How badly have you hurt him tonight by saying that you'd have to fake the same for him?"

"The kid's tough. He'll get over it."

"People don't get over heartbreak that easily!" Fai exploded. Kurogane jumped, startled. "People don't get over_ love_! What you said to him . . . it hurt him. Don't you understand that?"

"I'm not going to lie about something that important."

Fai threw his hands up. "Then you don't understand the point of lying! Why would anyone lie, except to cover up important, painful truths? Why would anyone bother when honesty has fewer repercussions?"

Kurogane paused.

"How much would it have cost you just to say those three words?" Fai asked after a moment, voice softening. "Wouldn't the price have been worth it? If you had just said them . . . even if they were untrue . . ."

"I won't lie to him by telling him I love him. And I won't lie by saying that I don't. I'm saying I don't _know_. And if I don't know, and I say either of those things, it could turn into a lie." And that, he knew, would only hurt the kid worse. Having something taken away was different from not having it in the first place.

"I can see why Tomoyo cast you out," Fai finally said, heading for the bedroom door. "You're incapable of mercy."

Kurogane clenched his fists, saying nothing. The door closed quietly, almost in defiance of the intensity of the past ten minutes. He took a deep breath, uncurling his fists.

To his right, another door opened, and the princess wandered out, rubbing her eyes. Kurogane repressed a jolt of panic. _How much did she hear? How much does she know? _"What are you doing up?" he demanded.

Sakura blinked, tilting her head back to look at him. "I heard Fai-san yelling. Is something wrong?"

He hesitated a beat too long, unused to making excuses. "No. Things are just a little tense right now. Go back to bed."

Her gaze sharpened, her shoulders straightening. A frown creased her lips.

Kurogane started to get that feeling he got when Tomoyo was upset with him. He shifted warily, glancing away. "It's really no big deal. Don't worry about it."

Sakura folded her arms in front of her nightgown, somehow managing to look regal despite the uneven tufts of hair sticking up from her scalp. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't keep things from me."

_Oh, hell. _He sighed, then sat on the arm of the couch. How the hell had she managed to make him feel guilty when the mage had only succeeded in pissing him off? Just because certain aspects of her personality reminded him of Tomoyo didn't mean he had to answer to her. And why the hell should he feel guilty, anyway? None of what had happened tonight had been his fault. It hadn't been anyone's fault, really. They'd all been tensed for a fight for weeks now, and it had finally manifested.

Maybe his guilt stemmed from something bigger. Not that he'd thought about it much, but he supposed seeing Syaoran walk around every day would have bothered the princess—she still longed after his clone, after all. Yet he'd sensed from the boy's reaction to her that he didn't feel the same way. He cared for the princess, probably even loved her, but she'd been too lost in her grief to notice or care.

Part of him had wondered if she'd have fallen in love with this kid like she had the other one. A smaller, uglier part of him felt a twinge of jealousy over the idea that the boy would, given the choice, want to be with her. But regardless of what would have happened, part of him felt guilty that they'd left the princess out of the loop so long. He couldn't get around the fact that his relationship with the boy would, in the future, become an obstacle for the girl's happiness.

Damn, love was complicated. Why did perfectly sane people feel the need to fall in love all the time?

Sakura shifted her weight, her posture becoming less rigid. "Um . . . Kurogane-san, may I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." _It's not like tonight's going to get any worse._

"I, um . . . I overheard some of what you and Fai-san were talking about. I was just wondering . . ."

"Yes?" he said when she trailed off.

"Well . . . I was wondering if you were, maybe, in a relationship with someone?" The sentence ended on an upward inflection, turning it into a question.

Kurogane fidgeted. "It's . . . complicated."

"Oh." She frowned, seeming troubled. "I just thought that you and Fai-san might be . . . well . . . you know . . ."

He spluttered. Him and the mage? What the hell had given her _that _idea? He replayed his conversation with the idiot in his head, wondering how _anyone_ could've drawn that conclusion.

The princess misjudged his reaction, holding her hands up in a soothing gesture. "I'm not judging. I mean, that sort of thing happened in Clow, too. My brother and Yukito-san—"

"I don't want to know!" He stood, clamping his mouth shut to keep from voicing the first few thoughts that flitted through his mind. After a moment, he managed a coherent sentence. "I'm not in a relationship with the mage."

"Oh. But . . ."

"But what?" he demanded, exasperated.

"But you two were talking about love confessions, right?"

He opened his mouth to deny it, then paused. If she'd woken up when Fai had started yelling, then she'd heard most of the conversation. That meant lying was out. Still, he didn't want her to find out—that would only widen the rift between everybody right now. But maybe he could steer the conversation away from the harder truths. "Yeah."

"So . . . are you in love with someone else?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure."

Her face fell a little. "Is it . . . someone in the city, then?"

"Yeah." _Technically. _

"Oh." She looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Well, you still wish to return to your home world, right?" At his nod, she continued. "So that means you'll have to leave that person behind, even though they're precious to you."

"Uh . . . Yeah. I guess so." He hadn't thought about that much, either. That when he finally returned to Nihon, he'd leave them all behind. And as he thought about it, the guilt returned in force, twisting in his gut.

She nodded to herself. "I can see why it would be painful to confess your love to someone you may never see again." Her expression darkened. "But I think that other person would be happier if you were honest with them. Not knowing . . . I think not knowing for certain would feel even worse than being rejected."

_She's thinking about the boy, _he realized. Not the boy in the other room, but the one they'd lost. _Jeez, no wonder she acts so cold to this kid. She's probably been wanting to ask him if the other kid loved her, but she's too timid to ask and hurt his feelings. _He stuffed his hands into his pockets, sighing. "It's important to act on what you believe, not just talk about it. A love confession doesn't mean much if your actions don't back it up, but _acting _on it means plenty by itself. The important thing is knowing that person cares about you, whether or not they'll admit it."

Sakura glanced up, eyes widening. "You think so?"

"Yeah. 'Course I do."

Something flickered through her eyes. Something that had been absent ever since Tokyo. After a moment, she looked down, seeming to withdraw inside herself. "That makes sense." She looked up again, then bowed. "Thank you."

"Yeah." The ache in his chest eased just a little. "Don't mention it."


	75. Unworthy of Love

Chapter Seventy-Five

Alone in his room, Syaoran concluded that tonight's troubles had been his fault. _I should've never asked for so much, _he thought, curling into a ball on his bed._ I don't deserve it after what I said tonight. I'd have been better off if I'd never brought it up. _Shame crept in as his brief conversation with Kurogane flitted through his mind. _"You don't love me, and I don't love you." Who says that? What's wrong with me? _

He buried his face in his arms, throat tightening. No tears came, despite his body's trembling. He felt too exhausted to cry._ I have no right to cry. I'm selfish. _His fists tightened, and he curled up where he lay, letting the waves of guilt crash over him, pulling him farther and farther into turbulent seas.

_Kurogane probably hates me now. I must have seemed so vindictive, throwing that back at him. He didn't deserve that. __He'd be better off if I was gone._

_ If I was gone . . . _The thought lingered in his mind. Of course, he couldn't actually _leave_, but he could withdraw, just as he had those first few weeks in this world. He could make himself invisible. The isolation would ache, but it was better than the alternative. Being alone was better than being hated. And it wasn't as if he'd cease to exist—he'd still answer when called. He'd do whatever needed to be done. But he'd do it in silence. Tonight, he'd used his words to hurt. As penance, he'd speak only when necessary.

The decision calmed the stormy sea engulfing him. He laid down on his mattress, staring at the cracks in the wall. He'd memorized the patterns months ago. He expected to grow even more familiar with them in the coming weeks.

He didn't plan to leave his room much, anyway.

* * *

Kurogane waited on the couch, expecting the kid to slip out of his bedroom within the next hour or so. Most of their arguments ended up that way, with one of them apologizing to the other soon after things came to a head.

The fact that the kid never came out of his room disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. Still, after three hours of watching documentaries, Kurogane concluded that the kid had fallen asleep. He'd have to take the boy aside before tomorrow's chess match to make sure things were all right.

It didn't occur to him that he wouldn't have the opportunity.

* * *

Syaoran quivered under his sheets, tears leaking from his eyes as he recovered from his latest nightmare. He'd been in that basement again, chained to the wall as Cassie's knife sliced into his skin over and over again. The nightmares had grown less frequent over the past couple months, but they still tormented him. As he glanced at the time display on his alarm clock, he decided there was no point in lulling himself back to sleep. He'd planned to wake up early anyway.

He slipped out of bed, dressed, and headed to the living room for breakfast. To his surprise, no one had taken the couch. After last night's disaster, he'd expected either Fai or Kurogane to sleep there. But apparently, they'd both slept in their beds.

It ached, not seeing either of them. But the alternative would have been worse. He pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard, wincing at the sound of crinkling plastic and rustling cornflakes. He ate quickly, hoping to be out of the way before the others woke to find him here. Within twenty minutes, he was outside, heading for the library. Reading always relaxed him. Even before Fujitaka had instilled the Other with a love for books, Syaoran had appreciated the value of good literature. Books had distracted him during the harsher weeks in this world. Perhaps they could distract him from his guilt as well.

* * *

The kid had left a note on the counter. The fact that he'd used this world's language pretty much singled out who it was for.

Kurogane wasn't sure if the kid had intended to worry him or calm him by choosing to write it that way. Infinity's written language mimicked his own, though it lacked the finer nuances of the words he'd read during his lessons as a child. Or perhaps it had its own nuances. Either way, Kurogane could read it.

_I've gone to the library, _the boy had written. No preamble. No greeting. _I'll be ready for tonight's chess match. If I'm not at the apartment by seven-thirty, I'll meet you there._

Then he'd signed his name, not in Infinity's language, but in his own. The kid had nice handwriting. Quick and flowing, like a painter drawing lines to give the impression of falling water. Not that Kurogane thought much about such things.

"What does it say?" Fai asked, peering over his shoulder.

"He went to the library. He says he'll meet us at the arena." He didn't bother suggesting that the kid would be back before then—the fact that he'd said "I'll meet you there" pretty much guaranteed that was his intention. _He's avoiding me._

The mage's constant, fake smile dimmed a bit. "I see."

Kurogane folded up the note, let it drop into the trash bin. "According to the roster, we're going up against one of the top-level fighters. It might be a rough fight."

"Might be." Fai nodded absently. "Are you worried?"

Kurogane sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He shrugged. "We're already signed up for it. There's no point in worrying now. Maybe we'll finally get a lead on the princess's feather. Hell, maybe whoever we're fighting kept winning because they have one."

"Very possible."

_And maybe we'll finally figure out who's been watching us since we got here, _he thought, glancing out the tiny window that led to the street.

* * *

Syaoran sat at the edge of the lobby, counting the black and white floor tiles as he waited for the others to arrive. He'd left the library almost two hours ago, unable to dispel the cloud of guilt that hung over him. This wasn't any better, of course. Counting floor tiles didn't distract him from the weight of his shame. But at least in the battle dome, no one looked at you oddly if you just sat there and stared into space. Anyone who glanced in his direction probably regarded his aloofness as his way of preparing his mind for a fight.

People milled about, their conversations building a wall of sound around him that both drowned out his own thoughts and allowed him to hear conversations without really listening. Even now, the lilt of foreign languages sang in his ears, a symphony of blending voices. And when those voices changed into conversations he could understand, he knew the others were within range.

He kept studying the floor tiles. He'd counted three-thousand-six-hundred-twelve black tiles, which gave him a frame of reference for how many white tiles he had yet to count. So far, he was only at nine-hundred-fifty-two.

The others arrived before he finished counting. He saw them pass through the revolving doors one-by-one, each wearing the tattered clothes they usually wore to chess matches. Resigned, Syaoran approached, keeping his expression blank.

Fai greeted him first. "Ah, there you are. Find anything interesting at the library?"

He shrugged.

"Hey, kid," Kurogane said, nodding in his direction.

Syaoran resisted the urge to look away, instead meeting the ninja's eyes with the same distant courtesy he'd greeted Fai with. "Good evening." He paused, body tense, as he waited for Kurogane to hint at last night's events. But the man said nothing, merely holding his gaze until the silence grew awkward. Eventually, Syaoran looked down, chest aching.

"Kurogane-san," Sakura called, waving the ninja over toward the check-in area. "It's almost time."

"Coming," he said, walking toward her.

The ache in his chest grew sharp. Fai laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Syaoran-kun. He's just clearing his head for the match. He's not mad."

Somehow, that only made him feel worse. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the shuffling feet, the chattering voices, the _clink _of coins changing hands. Most of the revenue for the chess games came from people gambling on their favorite team. Already, he'd heard dozens of conversations about tonight's match. Apparently, they'd be facing one of the top-ranked chess players in the city—the Final Master, they called him, though no one spoke of his true identity.

Ten minutes later, once all the appropriate papers had been filled out, an attendant led them to their usual prep room. They each split off, picking up their tournament collars as they headed to their separate changing stalls.

"Kid, I've been meaning to talk to you," Kurogane said, reaching for him.

Syaoran stepped back. "I have to get ready for the match."

The ninja's face fell. He lowered his hand, straightening his back. "It'll only take a minute."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Kid . . ."

"I can't," he repeated, turning away. "I'm sorry."

Syaoran hurried into his changing room, pulling the curtain closed behind him as a tempest of conflicting emotions spun inside him. Part of him had wanted to stay, to hear whatever the ninja had been planning to say to him, whether it was a comforting word or a rejection. The other part of him warned against even that much. He didn't deserve closure. He didn't deserve to stand in the red-eyed man's presence after what he'd said last night.

_I don't deserve love, _he thought, slipping the collar around his neck.


	76. Unwavering Strength

_Author's Notes:_

_We return to the manga for this chapter. In fact, the next few chapters are pretty much straight out of the manga, though I've adjusted them for the KuroSyao pairing and tried to add in new details. Anyway, I hope you don't grow too bored reading things you've already seen in the manga, but there's really no plausible way to skip this part without throwing off the whole plot, so you'll have to bear with me._

* * *

Chapter Seventy-Six

They rose into the arena, surrounded by flashing lights and thunderous applause. Kurogane folded his arms in front of his chest, watching the boy as the lift stopped. The kid stared into the distance, his eyes a thousand miles away.

They hadn't said a word to each other since their brief exchange in the prep room.

Their opponents hadn't arrived yet, whoever they were. Kurogane watched the corner of the arena opposite of theirs, waiting for some sign of movement, some whisper of sound. But he sensed no one. _Building up the suspense, _he thought, eyebrows slanting down. _Whoever we're up against, they're cocky enough to think their audience appeal is more important than the fight itself. _

The mage and the princess headed over to the egg-shaped vessel on the edge of the arena. Kurogane watched them go, then turned to the boy. Damn it all, he was going to say what he needed to say, whether the boy wanted to hear it or not. "Kid."

Syaoran tensed, then turned to him, eyes opaque. "Yes?"

His resolve crumbled at the last moment. "There's something _off _about this fight."

Eyes widening, the boy nodded. "I feel it, too. You think . . . You think this might be a setup?"

His eyes flickered to the place where the princess stood with the mage. They spoke quietly, their expressions calm, serious. _They must feel it, too. _"It's a possibility," he said to the kid. "Remember how I said someone's been watching us? I'm starting to feel like we're about to find out who."

Syaoran nodded, the last vestiges of uncertainty vanishing from his expression.

"One more thing," Kurogane added as their opponents' platform started to rise from the floor. He placed a hand on of Syaoran's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "Are we okay?"

His eyes opened wide. "I . . ." He glanced back at the others, who had looked over as the announcer chattered about the Final Master. After a moment, the kid looked at him again. "Yes. We're okay."

"Good." He let go, turning to face the enemy.

The chess-master studied them, his features sharp, his eyes sharper. A crown of white-gold hair stuck up from his scalp, illuminated by the flashing lights. Two figures flanked him, one familiar, one a stranger. Kurogane focused on the familiar man, trying to recall where he'd seen him before. He had an X-shaped scar on his chin and a square jaw reminiscent of his own.

"Are you all prepared?" the Final Master asked, lacing his fingers together in front of his chest.

_The big guy is the one who invited the princess to lunch a few months ago, _Kurogane realized. _What the hell was his name? Geo? _

The princess locked eyes with the chess-master. "The Final Master is you?"

_So she recognizes him, _Kurogane thought. _Which probably means he was the one behind that meeting. _He grit his teeth, distrust gnawing at his gut as the Final Master smiled. "I _am _more-or-less responsible for this, after all."

Suspicions confirmed, Kurogane glanced back at the girl. "You know him?"

She nodded. "His name is Eagle. He sent for me a few months ago to discuss some things." Her eyes hardened. "He created the chess matches."

Well, _that _was a disturbing bit of trivia. This guy knew all the ins and outs of the game, knew all the clever tricks, knew how to bend the rules without breaking them. _Which means we can't hold back, _he thought, looking at the boy, then the mage.

"Now," Eagle said, still smiling. "For the final chess game, I'd like it to be only one piece per master." He looked at Sakura. "Do you agree to that?"

_What kind of game is he playing? _

Without warning, without even waiting for the princess to agree, Syaoran stepped forward. "I'll do it."

_What a fucking nightmare, _Kurogane thought, closing his eyes. But as Eagle agreed, he decided it was pointless to argue. Not only was the kid stubborn enough to go through with it, but he had every right to do so. "Be very careful," Kurogane said as he walked passed the kid. "During, and after, the battle."

The boy nodded once. "Right."

Kurogane opened his mouth to say something more, then thought better of it. Distracting the kid with meaningless platitudes would do none of them any good. All he could do was watch from the sidelines and trust Syaoran's ability to protect himself.

* * *

Something was very, very wrong.

All week, Syaoran had been worrying about this match. Though he'd made it through the last fight with little trouble, part of him still worried about injuring his leg again. And the rest of him worried because, even though he seldom spoke to her, he could see the turmoil raging behind Sakura's eyes when he approached.

Yes, something was wrong. And he couldn't figure out what.

She reached forward, her fingertips touching his palm, the contact electronically syncing their collars so her willpower would influence his fighting ability. Her hand curled around his, her thumb tracing the side of his hand. "During my travels with the one who shares your form, he was always rescuing me," she said, her voice tender even as her gaze fell to the floor. "I've only put you through pain and hardship."

He opened his mouth to disagree, then closed it again. Never had he blamed her for ostracizing him—how could anyone have expected her to act differently to the loss of her most precious person? But he couldn't deny that her conspicuous avoidance of him had hurt. And he knew her well enough to know that she would blame herself regardless of what his assurances. So rather than disagreeing, he said, "If this is an apology . . . I don't need it."

Her eyes flashed wide for just a moment, her grip tightening around his hand. Then a smile spread across her face, like a sunset bleeding through the clouds. His heart thumped, the smile doing strange things to his body even as he remembered that this was not _his _princess, but the Other's.

"Thank you, Syaoran-kun."

His breath caught. _She called me by name. _

"I know that your name is also Syaoran. I heard it from Mokona, but . . ."

"No, that's . . ." He fumbled his words, not quite over the shock. "It _is _true, but . . ." He trailed off, worry twisting through his heart. _Something's going to happen. And she knows what it is._

"I'll win," he finally said. _And maybe then we can avoid whatever she expects to go wrong tonight. _

"Yes."

He stepped forward, facing the other side of the arena as the chess-masters' pods rose into the air, dangling from the ceiling by several heavy chains. Eagle glanced down at him. "Your weapon . . . That's the weapon that you're always using, correct?"

He looked down at the misshapen daggers in his hands.

"Why don't you use the weapon that suits you best?" Eagle asked, eyes narrowing in challenge. "I give you permission to use magic."

Syaoran flinched, eyes flickering to the stands where Kurogane and Fai stood, watching. He stood there for a moment, indecisive. Tournament rules clearly prohibited magic, and while this wasn't anything like the matches he'd participated in before, the offer made him wary. Still, his magic _was _his strongest weapon. Even under the odd circumstances, only a fool would ignore the opportunity.

He met Kurogane's eyes. When the ninja nodded and held out a hand, Syaoran tossed his tournament-approved daggers in that direction, drawing out his sword with a burst of flame. He looked at Eagle, waiting.

The man smiled. "Now, I'll place my piece on the board."

Something hissed through the rafters above them. Syaoran looked up, bracing himself, as a series of metal cables shot through the air, carrying a dark-haired figure wearing a white jumpsuit and a headband sporting large, triangular headphones.

"I don't imagine you would find one of these on your world," Eagle continued, speaking of dimensional travel as if it had no significance in this country. "An automata."

Syaoran's eyes narrowed as the female robot regarded him with calculating eyes. He held his sword up, waiting for the signal. From the sidelines, the rabbit-shaped robot that refereed all the chess matches bounced onto its platform, raising its paw. "Ready . . . Go!"

In an instant, the automata shot into the air, propelled by legs of steel. Syaoran froze, shocked by the sheer speed with which she moved. She flipped in midair, her movements perfectly coordinated, inhumanly agile.

Syaoran leapt backward, barely avoiding a debilitating blow. The automata landed, her punch leaving a crater in the floor. Her head snapped up, recalculating his position. She launched herself into the air, leg extending. He raised his sword to block, then grit his teeth as the force of the impact jarred the bones in his arms. _So strong, _he thought, suddenly worried that he'd made a mistake. Yet his strength didn't falter.

Sakura still had faith in him.

He shifted stances before the automata could strike again, swinging his sword toward the shiny surface of her neck. He scored a glancing blow, but failed to do much damage as she darted back. _She's fast, _he noted, adrenaline pouring into his veins.

Steel sang against steel once more as he blocked her next assault. Magic vibrated through his blade, strengthening the metal to withstand the blow. For an instant, as the pressure on his sword decreased, he thought he'd managed to toss the automata back. Then the robot shot forward, arm unfolding as her elbow jabbed his sword arm. Pain shot up his shoulder, and his hand trembled. His grip around his sword loosened, streaks of white shooting across his field of vision as the pain traveled down his body.

The automata whipped around, her leg swinging upward. Instinct and practice saved him—he flipped backward, barely avoiding a broken jaw. His sword spun in his hand, blocking the flurry of punches and kicks that followed. _This fight is too even, _he thought, jumping back at the same moment his opponent did. His breathing grew labored, but his enemy showed no signs of fatigue. _Of course not. Robots don't get tired. _

_Which means if I'm going to strike, I have to do it now. _He shot forward, raising his sword again as they neared each other. At the last moment, he lurched to the side, bringing up his leg—the one Jet had broken in that hellish basement—and slammed his knee against the automata's abdomen. _There, _he thought, jaw tightening as he waited for the answering jolt of pain from his abused knee. It never came—his body held, and the only pain he felt was the dull ache of the bruise he'd have from ramming his kneecap into a solid metal plate.

Then the robot snatched his leg and threw him to the floor.


	77. When the Dawn Breaks

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Blood ran down his back, as warm and sticky as syrup pooling on a table. Pain sheared through his control, the arena floor scraping the skin from his back through the barrier of his shirt. _I'm going to die, _he thought, still sliding.

The blood made the back of his shirt slick, allowing his momentum to carry him farther. Syaoran squinted at the glaring lights above, too stunned to stop himself as he skidded toward the edge of the arena. _There are no guard rails, _he thought numbly. _And the drop from the arena has to be at least twenty feet. I'll break my neck when I hit—_

_"Syaoran!"_

The voice, distant yet familiar, jolted him out of his morbid thoughts. His heart quickened, chest tightening as he recognized Kurogane's voice. _He called me by name, _he thought. _He called me by name even though we're not alone. But why? He knows that will only make people wonder about us. _

Time seemed to slow as he worked through his muddled thoughts. _He sounded so scared. But how could that be? He's never scared. Or if he is, he doesn't show it. _He felt the sudden drop-off at the edge of the platform and turned his head, eyes zeroing in on the ninja. _Is he afraid for _me_? _Mind fuzzy with pain, it took him a moment to really process that. _But if that's true, doesn't it follow that he cares about me, even now? And if he does care . . . is it possible he could come to love me? _

He kept sliding, almost dangling over the edge now. His momentum wanted to carry him farther, he knew. Wanted to throw him off the arena so he'd careen to the ground and break his neck. _I never thought these chess matches could get so dangerous. I should have spent less time reading and more time practicing. _

_ I should have told Kurogane I loved him. _

The thought shocked him. For so long, he'd regretted not saying the same thing to his Sakura. How pitifully tragic would it be if he failed to say it this time as well? If he died here, in this game of death, without ever saying those words . . .

_Then I just have to live long enough to say them. _He whipped around, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, and jammed the blade into the arena floor. It shattered the tiles, burying itself deep in the soft material beneath. Using his sword as leverage, he flung himself into the air, sailing over the arena.

His opponent, still relatively undamaged, shot into the air as he reached the top of his arc. Syaoran pulled his sword free, reinforcing it with his magic as he brought it around to block the next attack. It held strong, knocking them both back.

This time, Syaoran landed on his feet. The audience's cheers swelled, pounding against his eardrums as he ran forward to attack. _I have to bring that automata down before my adrenaline runs out, _he thought, his blade cleaving through the air only to be blocked by the girl's forearm. But rather than drawing back, Syaoran darted forward, slipping past the robot's guard and slamming his heel against her elbow. It bent backward, metal tearing apart to expose circuits and wires. _This is it, _he thought, lifting his sword and striking downward.

His opponent snatched the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the ground. A sickening jolt of pain sliced through his back, and all the air whistled out of his lungs. He barely had the presence of mind to roll out of the way as a metal fist shot toward his face. Tile shattered next to his cheek, and he closed his eyes, still rolling. More blood poured down his back, staining his shirt.

He started to stand, then staggered, his limbs growing clumsy. Every breath he took sent a jolt of pain through his side. _I probably cracked a rib, _he thought, unsure whether that should worry him or not. Yet the injury didn't explain the sudden fatigue in his muscles, or the oppressive weariness settling over his mind. _What's wrong with me? I've been hurt worse before. Why do I suddenly feel so tired?_

The answer came to him in a flash of insight. He looked back to see Sakura leaning forward in her chair, eyes wide with horror. _She's losing her drive, _he realized. _She doesn't want me to fight __anymore. _"Your eyes," he gasped. Even his tongue felt heavy as his collar sapped his strength. "Close your eyes. You don't need to see me. Concentrate only on winning!"

She murmured his name, voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. An instant later, his strength returned, revitalizing his body like a shot of adrenaline. He stood and faced his opponent. _I can win. I have to believe that, if nothing else. _

The automata darted forward, but her movements seemed slower than they had in the beginning. _She can't be tired. I must have damaged her. _He evaded the next punch, flipping backward toward the center of the arena. As soon as he landed, he took a fighting stance, waiting for the next strike.

A ball of light formed around the robot's fist, initially no brighter than a flashlight dusted over with disuse. Then the sphere grew brighter, increasing in diameter. A thin, high-pitched whir pierced the air, the pitch making it almost inaudible. _What's going on?_

She shot up into the air as if propelled by rockets. The light around her fist became blinding. For an instant, everything went still.

And then the world exploded.

* * *

Fear twisted through Kurogane's heart.

Most people he knew would've laughed at the idea that he could be afraid. And in truth, he'd never had much to be afraid of. Once he'd become strong enough to slay demons, there had been few challenges that had daunted him, and even fewer opponents who had, in the end, given him a real fight.

But as brilliant white light erupted from the arena above, something cracked inside his chest with a pain as sharp and real as a shattered rib. _No way . . . _he thought, unable to look away from the explosion, even though the brightness stung his eyes. _There's no way the kid could've survived that. _

"What was that?" He barely heard his own voice over the roar above. No one answered. Even the magician, prone to the most inappropriate bouts of humor, stood silent and still at his side, watching.

The roar from above grew louder even as the blinding light dulled. _If the attack is dissipating, why is that noise getting louder? _He looked up, blinking rapidly as if that would dispel the afterimages dancing in front of his eyes. It took him a few seconds to realize that, while the roaring had coincided with the blast, the attack wasn't the cause of it.

It was the audience. Cheering. Whistling. Shouting. As if they hadn't just watched someone burn up in an explosion of white light. In shock, Kurogane felt no anger, no shred of annoyance. Nothing except the deep ache in his chest. "Kid . . ."

"Look," the mage said, pointing at one of the screens showcasing the arena.

_I don't want to look, _whispered a small, pitiful voice in the back of his mind. Kurogane forced himself to look anyway, bracing himself to see the kid's charred corpse or flayed limbs or the bloody splotch where he'd been standing.

Instead, he saw the kid kneeling in the center of the oversized chess board, sword held above his head. All around him, craters marred the floor, leaving shards of tile and other debris everywhere. _He's alive. I can't fucking believe it. _

The automata shot through the air, coming down in an arc just above Syaoran. The boy dodged, only to catch a hard kick in the chest. He flew backward several feet.

Kurogane grabbed the mage's arm, trying to steady himself against the conflicting waves of relief and worry dragging him under. Up above—and displayed prominently on dozens of different screens—Syaoran met the robot's next attack. Magic sprung from his sword, crackling through the air around him. The audience cheered, their combined voices drowning out the kid's. But Kurogane saw his lips move, recognized the words that fell from his tongue. An attack. "Raitei Shourai!"

Magic spread across the arena, pushing chipped tiles and loose material out in a circle. The debris rained down in the pit where Kurogane stood, and he covered his head as several small ceramic shards hit him. Above, the energy swelled, rivaling the intense light of a moment ago as it shot toward the ceiling.

Kurogane leaned forward, eyes never straying from the screen. _Come on, _he thought. _Come on. That had to do something. That had to be the end of it. _

The smoke cleared as the last remnants of the spell fizzled out. On the monitor, Kurogane saw Syaoran, still standing, and his robotic opponent. They both swayed slightly, so close to breaking point. And then the automata collapsed, falling backward into its master's arms.

"It's over," Kurogane said. _Thank the gods. _

Syaoran stayed standing a moment more before falling to his knees, blood trickling down his back. Kurogane tensed, then relaxed again as the princess rushed over to the boy. However cold she'd acted to him the past few months, they took care of each other. As she reached him, Kurogane exhaled softly. _Well, at least that's over. _

A high-pitched noise sounded from above.

_You've got to be fucking kidding me. _Kurogane looked up, squinting against the flood of light to see a slim figure descending from the ceiling. _How much weird shit is going to happen tonight? Who the hell—_

"Chi?" Fai gasped.

Voice enhanced by microphones, Eagle's voice pierced the arena. "_She_ is the only automata in this country with the power to traverse dimensions. And _she _will now guide you to a different dimension."

If Tomoyo hadn't sent him away, he would have scoffed at how ridiculous that sounded. As it was, the words shredded through his last wisp of self-control. "I _knew _it!" _There _was _something going on. No wonder everyone's been acting so weird._

The blonde automata finished her descent, reaching toward the princess. And, with dawning horror, Kurogane watched the princess reach upward, grasping at that hand. _No. Not now. We've all survived so much. She can't leave _now_. _

On the screen, he saw the kid grab the princess's hand, keeping her grounded. Unable to reach the platform from where he stood now, Kurogane did the only thing he could think to do: he yelled. "Don't let go of the princess!"

They both looked down at him, then back at each other. Through the din, Kurogane couldn't hear what they were saying. But whatever it was, the princess objected, trying to pull her hand away as she shouted back.

Beside him, the mage shot forward. Kurogane instinctively reached for him, intending to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but rather than closing around the idiot's arm, his fingers closed around empty air. "Wait!"

Fai paid him no heed. Magic swirled around his body, nearly knocking Kurogane back. An instant later, Fai shot into the air, gliding to the platform where the kid clung to the princess. Kurogane watched, rooted to where he stood, as the wizard's blast of magic threw the kid back. _What the hell? _

Later, he'd remember how the blonde automata had seemed to split into two identical figures. Later, he'd remember how they'd both released a feather, each rippling as they flowed into Sakura's body. Later, he'd remember seeing Fai grab the kid's sword from the ground.

Now, the only thing he could focus on was the sword piercing the princess's heart.


	78. Eye of the Storm

_Author's Notes:_

_The first section is in present tense. Yes, this is intentional._

* * *

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Magic sings in his blood, burning through his veins. Cheers erupt from the audience. Behind him, Kurogane reaches out, grabbing for his arm. The scent of blood flows into his nostrils, a spicy, overwhelming smell. More magic. An old spell, one he casts without a conscious thought. Weightlessness. Rising to the destroyed chessboard that once made up the arena floor.

Syaoran glances at him, shock in his eyes. Another ripple of magic, stronger than the first. Syaoran shoots backwards, bloodied back streaking against the floor.

Reaching down. His hand closing over Syaoran's forgotten sword. Not in control. Not even aware, really, just watching. Shapes and colors flickering across his eyelids, like images flashing by too fast to be processed. Holding the sword now. His hand, but not his hand. Moving. Feeling the pull of muscles enhanced by magic. Strong magic, though not as strong as it was . . .

And Sakura's eyes, glazing over as she absorbs two feathers into her body. Sakura's eyes, green as emeralds, becoming opaque. Dull now, like dusty marbles—_why are they so dull?—_and he can't feel his body anymore, can't resist as some tiny, tiny part of him screams in horror, the kind of horror that echoes in his mind like a siren screeching next to his ear, and he can't stop, can't stop, can't _stop_—

Stillness. Not on the battlefield, but in his mind. Something spreading, taking over. A dark magic, propelling his hand.

He doesn't feel it when the blade slides in. There is no resistance, no sound of shredding fabric, no answering moan of pain. Just stillness. Silence. Just for a moment, the twin vortexes of magic cease their constant rotation.

Fai realizes he has never understood silence. Not true silence. But now he does. There's one instant, one moment where he can feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing, and it stretches on for an infinite amount of time, ringing through his body like the phantom chime of bells.

Then the world floods back and Fai screams.

* * *

_"Sakura!" _The name tore from Syaoran's throat as his sword slid into Sakura's heart. It was the only word he could manage, the only word that snapped to his mind as he saw the blood running down the hilt. Shock rattled through his body, slamming into his chest and knocking all the air out of his lungs.

Below, Kurogane shouted something about not pulling the sword out. _Of course, _Syaoran thought. _You can't pull something out of a puncture wound. If you do, there's nothing to stop the bleeding. _

Fai ripped the sword out of Sakura's chest, spattering blood everywhere. Too numb to stand, Syaoran slumped where he sat, staring. _Did Sakura just _die_? _

He frowned, not comprehending. Sakura couldn't _die_. That was ridiculous. Yes, they'd all paid grievous prices to make it this far, but they'd survived. Even when his clone had turned homicidal in Tokyo, they'd survived. Why would it be different now?

_"Someday, you'll meet her again, and everything will be exactly as it should be," _she'd said when she'd visited him in the hospital after he'd spent sixteen hours being tortured. _"That's all I can say about this now." _

Had she known this would happen? She had magic, just as her original had. He'd always suspected pieces of that magic had been returned to her as she'd regained her feathers. Did that mean, then, that she'd foreseen this?

Had this been the future she'd tried to change? Or had she averted an even worse future?

Fai's sudden scream shredded through his musings. Sparks of magic slithered across the arena floor, like living electricity. Instinctively, Syaoran shied away, shielding his eyes. Fai's scream reached a peak, his magic growing in intensity, filling the room like an immense, black pressure. _He's not in control, _Syaoran realized. _He's going to kill everyone. _

He tried to approach, bracing himself as waves of magic battered his body. It felt like walking into a hurricane, with Fai in the eye of the storm.

Another wave of magic slammed into him, throwing him back. Dazed, he righted himself, crawling forward. The air around Fai sizzled, wavering like a heat mirage. And he wouldn't stop _screaming_.

The next wave knocked him back half a foot. Part of his mind rebelled, commanding him to get away before the magic crushed him like a steamroller. He forced himself to keep crawling forward, though he didn't know how he could stop the magician once he reached the center of the maelstrom. As he crept closer, he sensed someone standing behind him. An instant later, a firm hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him to his feet. He staggered, leaning toward the figure for support.

Kurogane's arm enfolded him, shielding him from the storm. He looked up, barely breathing, his body ringing with pain, into Kurogane's eyes. His voice shook. "Kurogane-san . . ."

"I know. Don't look."

"But I—"

"Don't look!" Kurogane shifted, shielding him from the rampant waves of magic. Protecting him. Numb, Syaoran sank into his arms, pressing his face against the man's chest and closing his eyes.

_This is it. We're going to die. He's going to protect me until the storm wipes him out, and then I'll be gone, too. I should tell him . . . I should tell him the truth. _His fingers curled around the ninja's shirt. The roar of magic swept away all other sounds, even Fai's screams. It would be a miracle if Kurogane even heard him over the din. But he said the words anyway. "I love you."

Kurogane's body went rigid, his embrace tightening until his hold was almost painful. Panic shot through Syaoran's veins like a jolt of pure caffeine. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.

"You _what?_"

His breath caught, ice sliding down his back as the ninja took him by the shoulders and shook him. Syaoran looked away. "I . . . I'm in love with you." The rumbling of the arena seemed to ease a little as he said the words. "I've been in love with you for a while now. I . . ." _Why is it so quiet? _he wondered, peering over the ninja's shoulder. The waves of magic had settled, their impact lessening. And as he took in the scene before him, he realized why. "Look!"

Letting out a snarl, Kurogane turned. His eyes popped wide open as he took in the scene.

"I made it in time," Sakura whispered. Her body looked almost translucent, as if she was made of mist rather than flesh and blood. And as Syaoran saw her physical body floating toward one of the cyclones of magic, he understood. _She split her body from her soul. But how? Why? _

"It's all right," Sakura's spirit continued, resting one ethereal hand over Fai's knuckles. "My life is not yet lost. I still exist." She reached forward, her arms circling around the magician's shoulders. "Never forget—now we can change the future."

_That's what she's been trying to do this whole time, _Syaoran realized. _Meeting with Eagle, distancing herself from all of us, splitting her soul and her body . . . All of this, to change the future. _The complexity of it all threw him for a moment. He'd known Sakura was intelligent—they all were, in different ways—but this scheme transcended simple strategy. She'd gone against the flow of time, against destiny itself, to change the future.

And apparently, she'd succeeded.

She turned to him, an apology in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice growing soft. For the first time since she'd appeared, Syaoran realized her body was becoming more translucent, fading with every second. "Please take care of Fai-san until we meet again."

He reached out, as if to grab her hand. Her spirit drew back, pulled into the vortex hovering above their heads. It swallowed her up, closing around her as her spirit and her body disappeared into separate worlds.

Syaoran was so preoccupied with watching her go that he almost didn't notice when Fai lifted the sword to his throat.


	79. Discussion

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Kurogane saw it first and reacted as if he hadn't just seen the mage slaughter the princess. He ran, shoving past the kid as the wizard raised the still-dripping sword into the air, angling the point toward his neck. _Not fast enough, _he thought, visions of his mother being skewered flitting in front of his eyes. _You never have been fast enough. _

His hand closed around the mage's, stilling the sword before Fai could swing it toward his own throat. His knuckles whitened with the force of his grip. "Don't you _dare _wound anyone else with that sword," he said, his voice deadly quiet. _I've seen too many people hurt today. _"Not even yourself! You hear me?"

Fai turned, eyes so wide, it looked at if they would fall out of his skull. Despite this, his pupil had narrowed to a slit, his iris flecked with both blue and gold. Kurogane pulled back on the man's arm, trying to wrest the sword from the idiot's grip. The mage's body remained rigid, his fingers refusing to release the hilt. When his glassy eye focused in the distance, Kurogane glanced over. The boy stood halfway across the arena, his expression torn between shock and betrayal. _Goddamn it, _the ninja thought. _This shouldn't have happened. This wasn't how this journey was supposed to go. _

The gold faded from Fai's eyes. He slumped, collapsing face-first on the floor. "I'm . . . sorry . . ." he whispered, voice loud in the silence. Belatedly, Kurogane realized that the audience had cleared out, apparently having realized they'd been in danger.

The kid hurried over, either too stunned to contemplate revenge or hoping the closer proximity would give him an opportunity. Kurogane gave him one warning glance before a shout broke through the silence. "What went on here?"

_That should be obvious, _Kurogane thought. _Somewhere, one of us made a mistake. We let this happen. _

"What of the future?" asked the man Sakura had called Eagle. The black-haired man who'd accompanied him to the match looked up.

"It's changed. These three are still alive."

_Still alive? _The words echoed hollowly in his ears. Still alive? In what sense? What were they supposed to do now? What was the _point _of this journey, now that the princess was dead? "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. A faint tremor slipped into his voice, and he squashed his sorrow, shoving it aside for later. Unconsciously, he stepped forward. As the men who'd accompanied Eagle stepped between them, Kurogane paused.

"You'll get an explanation," Eagle said. "From us, and from one other."

"Everybody!" A squeaky voice broke through the tension. _Shit, _Kurogane thought, looking over as the meat bun bounced through a sliding door and into the kid's arms. "What's that blood from? Are you hurt? Sakura—where's Sakura?"

The kid clutched the pork bun in his arms, tremors radiating down his body. He didn't answer. And when a circle of light shot out from the jewel in Mokona's forehead, he didn't have to.

"Yuuko!" the meat bun cried. Beads of moisture formed around the creature's eyes. Tears.

In the circle, Yuuko lifted a tube the length of her forearm. Her expression was serious, unwavering. "The princess is in here."

_In a tube? _Kurogane thought. _What the hell? _Some part of his mind wondered how that had become such a common event—the boy had spent seven years in a tube, trapped by Fei Wang Reed. Now the princess had stored herself in a tube that couldn't have held her head.

"Princess Sakura's soul is currently residing in dreams," Yuuko continued. "That is what the princess wished for."

He looked up and saw hope flaring in Syaoran's eyes. The boy took half a step forward, then stopped, apparently remembering that the witch resided in another world. Kurogane just stood there, numb. _She wished for this? Why? _

"It seems that the princess could see the future within her dreams," Eagle cut in. "Exactly as my man Lantis can."

_A yumemi, _Kurogane thought. A dream-seer.

"I saw the future," Lantis said. "In the final chess battle, that man stabbed princess." His eyes slid over to the mage. Fai slumped under his stare. "Then he killed his two other companions. His actions broke him, and after that, he—"

"Stop it!" Mokona cried. But the words, and the images that came with them, had already burned themselves into Kurogane's mind. He saw how it would play out. Saw the mage ripping the sword out of the princess's body, saw his eyes glazing over as the shock, the despair, drove him to strike out. Saw himself standing between the wizard and the boy, sickened by the thought of killing one of his own, but forced to make a choice as the mage attacked, his magic raging out of control. Saw himself fall, too torn up to fight, body broken by the sheer force of Fai's magic.

Saw the kid turn to flee. Saw him being cut down anyway. Saw it all because he'd seen so much death in his twenty-eight years that those images jumped to his mind, impossible to block.

He lowered his eyes, hiding the flash of pain that darted across his face.

"That's too sad to even think about . . ." the pork bun said after a moment. And for once, Kurogane agreed.

"The princess tried to change what she saw in her dream," the witch said. "She risked her life doing it." Yuuko lowered her eyes. "The princess didn't want Fai to stab her. In a dream, she saw what would happen to him if she did. But that was a curse so powerful, it could not be avoided."

_A curse? _he thought, some of his anger draining away. His eyes slid over to the mage, still crumpled on the floor. The blond didn't react at all as Yuuko continued. "So the princess made a decision. 'If I can't avoid that event, then I will change the future that comes after,' she said. And she paid the price of her good luck to make it to the world to which she wished to go. She paid another price. One that would keep you all from dying."

"What price?" the kid asked. If Kurogane hadn't been listening for it, he would've missed the quaver in his voice. The fear.

_She wouldn't have paid for our lives with hers, _Kurogane thought. _She's not that stupid. She wouldn't throw away everything. But it would have to be a heavy price, to save all three of us. _He thought about it for a moment. Aside from her good luck, the princess hadn't had much to lose. Something from her home world, perhaps? _That doesn't make sense either. If we could give up something from our home world, the witch would've probably had us do that by now. No, it's something she had here. Or something she could have had._

The answer came to him in a sudden flash of insight. "That right leg of hers."

Every eye in the room turned to him. His fingers curled to make a fist.

"But didn't Sakura lose the use of that leg because of the injury?" the boy asked, seeming shocked.

"She might have been healed, in another world," Yuuko said. "However, even if it meant she could never use her leg again, she wanted to make sure that you all—and Fai as well—came out of this alive. She was determined to break his curse." Her wine-red eyes slid over to Fai. The magician stared at the ground for a moment, looking somehow broken despite his lack of injuries.

"So she knew . . ." Fai whispered. "Sakura-chan knew that I've been lying all this time."

Fury surged through his veins, held in check only by the knowledge that the princess had done all this so they could all live. _"__Why would anyone lie, except to cover up important, painful truths?" _Fai had said. And now Kurogane understood what he'd met.

"I knew . . ." Fai went on, his voice seeming to come from far away. "I knew that one of Sakura's feathers was in Ceres."

_And you never thought to tell us? _Kurogane wanted to roar. The witch intervened before he could. "Princess Sakura learned of it only after her power to see the future in dreams returned—when her feather in Tokyo was returned to her."

"So the princess is a dream-seer, too," he said, summing it up.

"A long time ago, a feather fell into Ceres," Fai said, not looking at any of them. "And with its power, I made Chi." He looked to the witch. "I met Syaoran and everyone else at your place. It was there that everyone else said what they were searching for. But I never mentioned it." Now, he turned his gaze to Syaoran. "You have magic powers of your own. You should know about another lie, right?"

Silence settled between them. _Am I the only one who has no idea what's going on? _Kurogane wondered, frustrated.

After a time, Syaoran spoke. "I saw it through the Other's eye. When the princess's wings broke apart at the ruins, the High Priest of Clow said something. He said 'All of the princess's memories have vanished. They are nowhere to be found on this world.' But right after that, during those first few hours of traveling, you pulled one feather out of the Other's clothes and told him it must have stuck there when the feathers had scattered. If that had been true, the High Priest would have known about it." He raised his head, a silent accusation glimmering in his eyes.

"Yes." Fai looked down. "I brought a feather with me at the very start."

_So you really have been lying the entire time, _Kurogane thought, gritting his teeth. _And now it's led to this. _

"You kept your distance from me," Fai said to the kid before turning to the witch. "And _you _knew about it, too, didn't you? You knew about all the lies I was telling. And the first time I came to your shop, it was raining. But the rain never touched you. At that time, your magic was even more powerful than mine, though I still had both eyes. For that reason, you kept yourself in another dimension, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Fai looked away. His single eye clouded over. His voice went flat, dead. "I was cursed to kill anyone who possessed magical power greater than mine. And you knew I had that curse on me."

Kurogane stared, all the details clicking into place. _Holy shit. That's why he's been acting so __distant. If his magical power comes from his eyes, and he's only at half-power now, that means he's much more likely to slaughter the first powerful magic-user he comes across. And now he has. _His anger guttered out like a candle in the wind.

"You knew it all along." The mage's voice reverberated with sorrow. "So why? Why did you send me with them?"

"Because it was your wish."

"Even though I had this trap inside me?"

"Yes. Even with that. You meet and join with others, and what you do after is entirely your decision."

Though the witch had spoken softly, Fai's head snapped up. Horror flooded his face, and he wrapped his arms around his chest, as if to protect himself from the unspoken accusation.

"One question," Kurogane said, crossing his arms as he looked at the glass tube in the witch's hand. "Why is the princess living in that _thing_?"

"One of the princess's feathers resides in dreams. After all, dreams themselves are one of the worlds."

"And Sakura saw the future in a dream?" the meat bun asked, sounding uncertain.

"Yes." Yuuko's expression turned grim. "And she knows that the other Syaoran will come into dreams to seek it."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Sorry about the repetitiveness of this chapter. It's pretty much taken straight from the manga. I did try to change it up as much as possible—I even played with some of the dialogue so it would flow better—but this one had to be pretty rigidly confined to the manga, and I couldn't just skip over it. So I guess it sort of functions as a reminder of what happened, how everyone reacted to it, and how they're going to deal with it in the upcoming chapters. Hopefully, I will be able to put more KuroSyao bits in the next chapter._


	80. Offerings and Choices

_Author's Notes:_

_More stuff straight out of the manga. I like this chapter a bit better than the last, because there's a little more room for interpretation, but it's still not my favorite. And, naturally, we can't skip over it._

* * *

Chapter Eighty

"It's too dangerous!" Mokona squeaked, nearly tumbling out of Syaoran's arms. He clutched the creature closer to his chest, partly to keep her from falling, and partly as a comfort. He hadn't thought he'd ever face a situation worse than what he'd faced in Tokyo. _I should have expected this. It always gets worse._

He heard Kurogane sigh and looked up. "If I see her again, I'm going to punch her lights out," he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Syaoran's eyes widened in shock. Not because of the threat—Kurogane often threatened people that annoyed him—but because of the qualification. The _if_. A sickening panic washed through his veins. _He doesn't think we'll find her. He doesn't think we can save her. _

Even as Mokona objected, Yuuko smiled. "Yes, be sure to do that."

"Yuuko!" Mokona wailed, straining to get free of his arms. Syaoran held on, bowing his head.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Syaoran grit his teeth, trying to find the will to meet Kurogane's eyes even as he struggled to resist throwing himself into the ninja's arms. He took a few breaths to steady himself. By the time he did, Kurogane had changed the subject. "Her body and soul, huh . . . Her body is the biggest concern, right?"

"But . . . but even if we tried to go after Sakura, Mokona can't control which country we go to next."

_There has to be some way to control that, _Syaoran thought. _Yukito was able to send Sakura and the other Syaoran directly to Yuuko's shop. There has to be some way to travel with enough precision to __land in the desired world. _His eyebrows knit together. What price would they have to pay to guarantee that?

"I have a wish," Fai said, and the room fell as silent as a funeral parlor. Then, almost to himself, he said, "because the power I have now isn't enough, is it?"

"There is a price."

Fai lifted his head. No hint of uncertainty tainted his features. "My right eye."

Syaoran must have been in shock because the first thing that popped into his head was _Why __is it always an eye__? Why does nobody ever offer __to chop off their arm?_

"I suppose I could gouge it out and hand it over," Fai continued, as if discussing an upcoming trip to the grocery store. Everyone stared in mute horror. "It's the embodiment of my magic. And if I lost both eyes, I'd certainly die. But I can't die yet. So my price will be everything that this eye sees."

"You will turn over the vision in your right eye?" Yuuko asked.

"Yes. I want to go back to Ceres."

"No!" Mokona squealed. "Fai can't do that! If Fai does, Fai won't ever be able to see again!"

The magician looked down. "It's the only thing I have left that's valuable enough to pay the price."

A sudden movement drew Syaoran's eye. He flinched back as Kurogane raised his fist and brought it down, knuckles slamming against the top of Fai's head. The resulting thud reverberated through the quiet room, like a paper-sheathed vase striking the ground.

"_That's _what I punch people out for," the ninja said, scowling. "Why do you have to pay the price on your own? If the princess's body is in Ceres, you're not going alone."

"But I—"

Kurogane snatched Fai's tournament collar, yanking him forward. Fai staggered several steps, his eye wide. "Up until now, I've pretty much let you do as you liked." Kurogane's voice came out in a low snarl. "So now, _I'm _going to do as _I _like." His fingers unfurled, freeing the magician. Fai slid back, shrinking under the ninja's anger. "Hey, witch."

"You've always been rude," Yuuko said, and though her voice was placid, Syaoran heard the disapproval in the words. "And now you add an utter lack of sense in how you address people."

"To hell with that. How is the princess's soul doing?"

"You can't chase after it now, even if you tried. Only souls can go into dreams. Besides, it will take time before the other Syaoran comes."

If anyone else noticed that she'd sidestepped his question, they didn't show it. Calmer now, Mokona spoke. "Is Sakura lonely in that dream world?"

Yuuko gave the creature a knowing smile. "The princess isn't alone. She's met someone in dreams, and that meeting will once again change the future."

Syaoran felt a spark of premonition. His whole body went rigid, and a face he hadn't seen in a very long time flashed in front of his eyes. _Could she mean Watanuki? _He glanced up, hoping for some signal, some confirmation. And also hoping he was wrong.

His heart relaxed when he realized that Yuuko was smiling. "Watanuki will not vanish. And his future is changing as well."

_Thank goodness, _he thought, ignoring the puzzled looks the others sent him as he let out a breath.

"Who's that supposed to be?" Kurogane asked, glancing between them as if unsure who he ought to direct the question to.

"Someone who has had nothing to do with you. Up to now." Yuuko's eyes darkened. "So what will you do?"

Kurogane closed his eyes. "The princess's body is the first priority. We'll go." His eyes flashed to Syaoran's face. "And you?"

_This isn't the time to be indecisive, _Syaoran reminded himself, squaring his shoulders. "I'm going to Ceres." He paused, weighing his next words. The others knew some things about their enemy, but apart from Yuuko, Syaoran knew more than any of them. And while he wasn't prepared to tell them everything, there were things they needed to know. "The one who imprisoned me . . . Fei Wong Reed sliced out the princess's memories and scattered them. Now he wants her body. We can't know what he'll do." _But it won't be good. _

The others nodded, then turned back to Yuuko. All except Kurogane—his eyes lingered on Syaoran's face, flat and unreadable. _So he knows now, _Syaoran thought. _He knows I've been keeping things from him about our enemy. _He closed his eyes again, not allowing the little stab of guilt to shake him. They would speak of it later, after they finished up in Ceres.

"Fai," Mokona said, bouncing out of Syaoran's arms and into the magician's. "Let's all go together. We'll each pay part of the price and we'll save Sakura."

"But . . ." Fai seemed to waver for a moment. His eyes slid over to where Syaoran stood.

_Right. We have things to settle. _He stepped forward, keeping his voice calm, detached. "I knew all along, and I never said a word. Sakura . . . The princess trusted you." _Trusted all of us. Trusted me. _"You may have lied. The princess put her faith in a liar." _In three liars. _"But she asked us to take care of you, and so we're going to trust you, too."

Fai drew back, looking stricken. "I . . ."

"You were right," Syaoran said, turning away. "I should have told her. But it's too late now. There's no point in regretting it." He glanced at Yuuko. "Is there anything else we need to know?"

"Not at this time. Good luck. And dress warmly."

He nodded once, then started for the door. Halfway there, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. A hand circled around his upper arm, forcing him to slow. "Prep room. Now," Kurogane said, his lips so close that Syaoran could feel his breath on the side of his neck. A coil of unease formed in his stomach. _This is it, _he thought. _He didn't say anything when I told him I loved him. He's going to break it off so he won't have to deal with it in the next world. And I have to let him. _

"Five minutes," he whispered back.

The hand around his arm tightened, then relaxed. "Fine." The ninja stalked off, heading to the elevator that would bring him to the prep room. Syaoran took a detour, heading down the stone steps that led off the edge of the ravaged arena. He'd take the longer route, he decided. It would give him a few minutes to brace himself. A few minutes of delusion before Kurogane's inevitable rejection shattered even that fragile peace.

He ended up in the lobby, though it took him a moment to recognize it as such, since all the people who normally milled about had vanished. _They must have cleared this place out after they realized things were getting dangerous. _

Half-disappointed and half-relieved by the lack of background chatter, he sat down on the nearest bench and folded his hands on his lap. He shut out all sounds, all distractions, and worked through what he wanted to say. What he had to say. And then, dragging his feet, he descended into the prep room.


	81. Important Conversations

Chapter Eighty-One

Kurogane heard the door open.

His eyes, closed a moment ago, opened to slits. His fingers curled and uncurled, though the tension in his hands never eased. He wanted to hit something. If he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to hit _someone_. But he could still feel the faint throbbing in his knuckles from punching the mage a few minutes ago—he'd probably have to apologize.

Syaoran slipped through the doorway, waiting for the metal door to close behind him before advancing further. His eyes, ringed with shadows, stayed glued to the floor. His shoulders curled inward—not enough to be considered cringing, but enough to suggest resignation, worry. Pain.

He'd almost forgotten how badly the kid had hurt himself during his solo chess match. The reminder softened the jagged edges of his anger. "Hey."

The kid winced.

"Sit down," Kurogane said, patting the bench. The boy shuffled over and sat down, still not meeting his eyes. _He thinks he knows what's coming, _Kurogane thought. _Well, fine. He can think whatever he wants. _"Take off your shirt."

Kurogane got the mixed satisfaction of seeing the shock on the boy's face before he complied. He peeled away his tournament shirt, wincing as the movement pulled at the scabs on his back. In places, the fabric clung to his skin as if glued there. Several times, the kid drew in a sharp breath, responding to the pain as if reminded of his injuries.

"Turn around. Let me see your back."

The kid obeyed, shoulders tensing as if in expectation of a blow. He flinched when Kurogane ran his fingertips down his spine. Kurogane let his hand linger there until the last of his anger seeped away.

"Do you remember what I said to you the first time I took you to bed?"

The boy went still for a moment. "Which part do you mean?"

"The part when I told you not to be afraid. When I told you I wouldn't hurt you."

Syaoran hesitated, his hands tightening into fists. "I remember."

"I wonder how many times I've broken that promise since then. How many times I've hurt you without realizing it." He let one hand trace the boy's arm, flattening the fine hairs there. "I don't have a good estimate. Even if I did, the number is much higher than I want to think. And I think that what I'm doing . . . what I'm _saying _. . . is going to hurt you."

"You don't have to worry about hurting me. I knew this was coming."

"I love you."

The kid shot to his feet as if he'd been zapped. His shirt fluttered to the floor, his eyes zeroing in on Kurogane's face. The boy skittered back several steps, until his shoulders hit the opposite wall. His chest heaved. "You . . . _what_?"

Kurogane stood and approached, every step measured. "I never thought I'd need to say it. I never thought I'd _want _to. And if you're going to ask me when it happened, I don't have an answer. But I'll tell you when I realized it." He reached forward, taking the kid's face between his hands. Part of him knew how little effort it would take to snap his neck. The rest of him knew he'd never be able to. "You almost died today. We all came close." _And one of us is gone because of it. _"You could have fallen off the edge of the arena. You could've been torn apart by the idiot's magic. You could have died trying to get between the princess and the mage. And I wouldn't have been able to stop you. You would have died, and I would've been left holding your corpse, or we both would have died . . ." His throat started to ache, and he abandoned the string of words to maintain control. "And then, when you said what you did, I couldn't push it aside anymore."

"I . . ." Tears rolled down the kid's cheeks, catching the light. He swallowed thickly. "I love you, too."

"Good." Kurogane pulled him close, letting the kid press his face against his shirt. Two trembling arms encircled him. He rested his chin atop the boy's head, closing his eyes. And for a moment, he just held him.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Goddamn it." Growling, Kurogane pulled back. "What?"

Fai's voice pierced through the door. "Are you two having a moment, or can we go?"

Kurogane started for the door, then stopped as a hand coiled around his. "Don't hit him," Syaoran said, sounding more weary than worried. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt."

The sentiment gave him pause; his voice wasn't as harsh as he'd expected it to be. "_Some_ of us have wounds to tend to," Kurogane called. "We don't all have enhanced healing abilities."

"All right. When you're done, come out. I've got good winter gear."

_Where did he get clothes for winter? _Kurogane wondered. _And how cold _is _Ceres, anyway? _"We'll be out in ten minutes." He turned back to the kid, laying a hand on his cheek. "We have to patch up the wounds on your back. You're scraped up pretty bad."

Syaoran nodded, taking a seat. Kurogane picked through the bags they'd left during the chess match and produced a cylinder of salve. He unscrewed the cap and started dabbing the medicine on the kid's abraded skin. Syaoran moaned in relief even as he clutched the bench. Kurogane made sure to cover every scrape and slice, knowing that, though the wounds would take a few days to heal completely, the treatment would soothe the sting.

"Kurogane-san . . . I've been thinking. . ."

"Yeah?"

The kid hesitated. "You and I . . . We don't have the most conventional relationship."

"I know." He rubbed the paste over a particularly nasty-looking scrape.

"People aren't going to approve of us being together. Not that that's such a big deal, but . . . I was thinking that, once we get through this and save Sakura . . . Maybe we should tell her."

His heart quickened. He dabbed another patch of salve onto the kid's back, wrinkling his nose at the bitter, medicinal smell. "You think so?"

"I . . . wanted your permission first. Since we're . . . you know . . ."

"Lovers?"

Syaoran stiffened, then glanced over his shoulder, face reddening. "Yes. Wow." He inhaled, then exhaled sharply. "I've never been able to find a word that fit what we were."

"Maybe because that word didn't fit before." Impulsively, he leaned forward, touching his lips to the back of Syaoran's neck. "If you want to tell the princess, I won't stop you. Hell, the mage already knows—we can't keep it secret forever."

The boy considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Then that's what we'll do." He looked off to the side. "There's . . . one more thing. About Sakura."

"You're in love with her, too."

Syaoran flinched. "I—well, it's . . . Yes."

"I can live with that." Finished applying the medicine, he placed a hand on each of the kid's shoulders and pulled him back so Syaoran's head was cradled in the hollow of his throat.

"You're not . . . upset?"

"No." And that, he realized with surprise, was the truth. He'd thought acknowledging it would make it harder to accept. But then, he knew love seldom worked in convenient ways. "I figured it would come up eventually."

"I . . ." The redness on his cheeks had traveled to the rest of his face. "I can set that aside. It's probably better if I don't love her like that. Better for her. Better for you and me. I can—"

"Syaoran."

The kid went rigid in his arms. "Yes?"

"I didn't ask you to stop loving her. That's not a solution—you couldn't do it if you tried."

"But I want you to be happy."

Kurogane rolled his eyes. "You don't get it at all, do you?" He turned the kid to face him. "I love you. You love me. You also love her. I'm not asking you to be exclusive."

Syaoran gave him a blank look, then raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"

He shook his head. "I'm saying that whatever else happens, you're always welcome in my bed. In my life," he amended when the boy blushed. "I don't know how the princess is going to react to that." _Probably not well, _he thought. "She might not accept it. Until then, we can keep things like this."

Syaoran said nothing for a few seconds. Then, without warning, he raised one hand, letting his fingers trace Kurogane's cheek. An odd tingle shot down the back of his neck, sparking sensations in the rest of his body. _So this is what it's like to be in love, _he thought, breath catching. _No wonder he wanted me to say it so badly._

A pair of dark brown eyes settled on his face, overflowing with emotion. He leaned forward, framing the kid's face between his hands. Syaoran chuckled softly, face breaking out in a smile.

"What's so funny?" Kurogane demanded.

"Nothing. Nothing, it's just . . ." He chuckled again, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. "I've never seen you look so . . . gooey."

"_Gooey_?"

Syaoran nodded. "In love," he clarified. Then, eyes twinkling with wonder, he added, "With _me_."

"If you keep calling me 'gooey,' I might change my mind," he threatened, unable to keep a smile from rising to his lips.

"Sorry. First word that came to mind." Syaoran stood and pulled a clean shirt from the bag he'd left in here before the match, switching it with the bloody one. "We should probably get ready to go."

Impulsively, Kurogane spoke. "One more thing."

"Hmm?" Syaoran glanced back. Kurogane planted a hand on each of his shoulders, pulling him forward. Surprise flickered across the kid's face as their lips met, then melted away as he sank into the kiss. His bag slid out of his hands, dropping to the floor. His arms coiled around Kurogane's neck, closing the last spaces between them.

"I just wanted to do that one more time," Kurogane said, pulling away. "Just in case."

Syaoran nodded, not saying a word as he gathered up his things and started for the door.

"One more thing," Kurogane added, shifting his weight between his feet. "I love you. You know, figured I should say that again, too. Just in case."

Syaoran's smile made his heart ache. "I love you, too."


	82. To Ceres

Chapter Eighty-Two

Syaoran folded the thick cloth around Mokona's body, tying a knot near the top so it wouldn't slip off when they landed in Ceres. "There," he said, managing a faint smile as he stood.

Mokona bounced from the floor to his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek before turning to Eagle. "Can we really have these clothes?"

"Yes. I've heard the world you're going to is quite cold." Eagle smiled, his expression the antithesis of his companions' somber faces. Lantis stepped forward, nodding once before speaking.

"I apologize for keeping silent despite knowing about your situation."

"And for having us shadowed?" Kurogane asked, raising an eyebrow. Syaoran glanced up in surprise, then remembered the ninja's earlier remarks about being watched. _Of course, _he thought. _These three must have taken an interest in us because of the chess matches. _His eyes narrowed. Fei Wang Reed had been observing the group since before they'd met in Yuuko's shop. When Kurogane had mentioned they were being watched, he'd assumed it had been one of Reed's henchmen shadowing them. _And if these are his spies, he wants us to head to Ceres. _

"So you noticed," Eagle said, his smile never faltering.

Kurogane sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. But there were others watching us, too."

_Does he know something I don't? _Syaoran wondered. _Or can he sense it?_

The sound of footfalls interrupted his train of thought. He turned to see Fai, face grim, dressed in the snow-white coat he'd been wearing when he'd landed in Yuuko's shop. Syaoran looked away, trying to stifle the distrust churning inside him. It was easier if he reminded himself that he'd lied just as much as the magician. But acknowledging that came with its own ache.

"Is Fai all right?" Mokona asked.

For the first time in days, Fai managed a small, genuine smile. "I'm just fine. We can go."

Mokona bobbed in agreement, then turned to the wall. A circle of light shot out of the gem in her forehead, and Yuuko's image appeared on the wall. "Everybody's ready," the creature reported.

"Very well. I will now name the price." Yuuko closed her eyes for a moment, as if the perfect price would flash on the insides of her eyelids, then said, "Hand over the winnings from the chess tournament."

_That's all?_ Syaoran blinked in shock. "What?"

"The princess wasn't the only one playing chess. You all participated. You won chess games through your own strength, so that will be my price."

On his shoulder, Mokona fidgeted. Even as she spoke, Syaoran anticipated her argument. "But Mokona didn't participate . . ."

He rested his hand on the creature's head, being careful not to block the light pouring from the red gem between her eyes. "That's not true," he said, though part of him agreed. "You played your own part. We knew you would be waiting for us, so we all did our best to come back."

Beads of moisture formed in Mokona's eyes, but she smiled. "Syaoran . . ."

He patted her on the head. From the corner of his eye, he saw the others smile. He nodded to each of them as well, a wordless assurance that they were going to be all right. Hopefully.

"There is one more condition," Yuuko said, looking at Fai. "When Mokona begins the transfer between worlds, you must cast a world-transfer spell as well."

Syaoran turned in time to see Fai look down. _That will require a lot of magic, _he thought. _Can he manage it? _The effects of overextending oneself were often devastating, regardless of the world or type of magic. And if Yukito had struggled to transfer two people from Clow Country to the shop, how powerful would Fai have to be to transport all four of them, even with Mokona's help?

_But Fai said that just traveling by himself would require almost all his magic, even before he lost his eye. Will doing the same now kill him, or was he __lying?_

"Yes," Fai said, then looked at him, as if reading his thoughts. "I'm sorry. That's another lie I told."

_So he won't die, _Syaoran thought, his relief tempered with disapproval. "It doesn't matter now."

"Mokona, will you give me Souhi?" Fai asked, holding out a hand. After a brief hesitation, the creature opened her mouth and summoned Kurogane's sword. Fai caught it, then turned to the ninja. "Your hand, please."

Syaoran tensed, then forced himself to relax. _You have to trust him, _he reminded himself. _He's been fighting with you, _for _you, all this time. If you don't trust him, how are you ever going to be able to face Fei Wang Reed? _

Fai took the ninja's hand, his fingertips dancing over his palm. A thin trail of light resolved into a series of runes, gathering in a circle above Kurogane's skin. A moment later, Souhi dissolved into threads of light, pouring into the center of the ring, then sinking into Kurogane's hand. Despite his moment of distrust, Syaoran found himself fascinated by the magician's spell. It wasn't the same magic system he'd learned so long ago, but it appeared to have definable rules, perhaps even a way of creating new spells based on an alphabet rather than on geometry and guesswork. Perhaps later, he'd try to see if his own magic was compatible with the magician's way of spell-casting.

"What did you do?" Kurogane asked, staring at his hand with wariness and curiosity.

"Mokona won't always be by your side, and you wouldn't want to be left without your weapon. It's the same kind of magic Syaoran-kun uses to draw his sword out of his hand."

A thread of suspicion wound through the ninja's voice. "Should you really be doing this?"

Fai simply smiled. "I've already used quite a bit of my magic. Where's the harm in this?"

Syaoran frowned, noting that Fai hadn't really answered the question. _That's something to think about later, _he decided as Yuuko spoke. "Mokona."

"Yes?"

"It's time."

The creature nodded, hopping off Syaoran's shoulder. A pair of white wings unfolded from her back, though they'd been nonexistent a moment ago. An elaborate magic circle spread out beneath their feet, preparing to transport everything within its boundaries. At the same moment, Fai carved a series of runes in the air. They pulsed with an eerie blue light, spreading out to encompass the same field as Mokona's magic circle. The sorcery tugged his body upward, then swallowed him up. Syaoran closed his eyes and held his breath, bracing himself for the jump.

It felt like drowning, but without the pain. Frigid liquid flowed all around him, as black and empty as the space between stars. It took only a moment—long enough for him to sense the cold, but not so long that it sunk into his bones—and then it vanished, replaced by a chill that could be survived. The dimensional waters receded as he dropped into the new world, and he automatically oriented himself so he would land on his feet.

"Is this it?" he asked as the snow crunched under his weight. He raised his head, squinting to see through the falling snow as the wind whipped it into a flurry.

Fai spoke, his voice somber, almost reverent. "This is Ceres."

The wind died down for a moment, allowing him to see the towering structure in the distance. Thousands of stairs surrounded the castle, following erratic, jagged patterns toward the edges of the building. Several crystal spires shot up from the squarish base, crusted with ice like mountain peaks. Though the wind battered against the rocky shelf where they stood, the castle looked untouched, even pristine.

It radiated magic like a furnace radiated heat. "What is that place?"

"Ruval castle," Fai answered. "My home."

Suddenly, Mokona started flailing around. "This is awful! Mokona can't sense Sakura's body!"

Syaoran pressed a hand to the creature's head. "It's all right. What you sensed before was the same power you sensed when her feathers were near. Now that her soul is separated from her body, you can't sense it."

"Sakura-chan is over there," Fai said, pointing toward the castle.

"How would you know?" Kurogane demanded.

"Even with her soul separated from her body, Sakura-chan still lives. And the only signs of anything living are coming from that castle."

Silence fell between them, the obvious question hovering in the air for a long moment before Mokona chose to voice it. "Aren't there other people in this country?"

Still, no one spoke. Syaoran shifted his weight between his feet, not particularly wanting to know the answer or the reason for it. "How do we get to the castle, then? Do we climb the stairs?"

"The stairs aren't really there," Fai said, nodding toward the crystalline steps Syaoran had noticed before.

"An illusion?"

Fai nodded, then started to move his fingers to shape more runes. Remembering his comment about how much magic the man already used, Syaoran grabbed his wrist. "I'll do it."

Fai jumped guiltily, then withdrew his hand. Syaoran focused, forming a magic circle in his mind. The wind, already moving fast, cradled them as he murmured the words to call it. "Fuuka Shourai."

The wind formed a sphere around them and lifted them up, all while leaving a cushion of calm air around their bodies. They flew above the illusory steps, heading straight for the front doors. Syaoran felt a stab of anxiety, wondering if the ground by the door was an illusion as well, but as he drifted down, it held their weight. He released the spell, freeing the wind to return to its business.

And froze when he saw the corpses lying next to the door. _What happened here? _he wondered, staring. The guards—they must have been guards, carrying armor and weapons—were covered in a thin layer of red ice and pink snow. Some appeared to have been crushed, though Syaoran didn't know what could have done so much damage. Others were hunched over mounds of snow, blood frozen to wounds on their necks and backs.

Nauseated by the sight, he turned and followed Fai through the door.

"They were all wearing clothes like Fai's," Mokona whispered after a moment, burrowing into the space between Syaoran's jaw and his neck.

"Men of the castle," Kurogane guessed, not seeming disturbed in the least. _Right. He's used to seeing things like this. _Syaoran swallowed, not saying a word as they passed into the relative warmth of the castle's entryway.

A sharp, sudden pain flared in his head, as if he'd jammed an ice pick through his eardrums. He staggered several steps, clutching his head. His ears rang. Spots flooded his vision. _Something's wrong, _he thought._  
_

"What is it?" Kurogane asked. A warm hand enveloped his as the sensation faded.

"It's . . . nothing." He pushed forward, cautiously testing his weight on the staircase before deciding it wasn't an illusion. The ripples of magic he'd felt before seemed to grow more intense with each step, until a dull ache sprouted in the back of his head. _There's something wrong with this place. Someone doesn't want us to be here. _

"Is Syaoran really all right?" Mokona asked him after a few minutes.

"I'm fine," he gasped, his stomach tight with pain and worry. "We have to find the princess. That's our first priority."

They passed more corpses, all stacked up in the corner and splattered with old blood. A curl of nausea joined the growing ache in his head, but he pressed on. No one had ever accused him of giving up. He would keep going until he reached his goal.

Finally, Fai led them to a tall, white door. Syaoran took a deep breath, gathering his strength and refocusing his mind in preparation for whatever lay beyond. The magician glanced back at them, his single eye haunted.

Fai pushed the door open.


	83. The Tower and the Valley

Chapter Eighty-Three

"Welcome home, Fai!"

_Well, that's not the greeting I was expecting, _Kurogane thought, regarding the dark-haired stranger on the other side of the room. The king wore a bell-shaped cape that made him look like a butterfly with its wings folded inward, and he held his hands in front of his body in a manner that looked almost . . . polite. The man beamed at the mage like a father reuniting with his adult child.

It was, Kurogane thought, just a little creepy.

"I had hoped that I wouldn't have to come back at all, Ashura-ou." Fai bowed his head, mimicking the king's posture.

_This is the guy he's been running from? Really? _Kurogane studied the king again, frowning. Though he could feel the wisps of magic swirling around their group, the king's refined features and glossy hair made him look more like a politician than a warrior. _Maybe that's where the idiot gets it from. But why run? And why does this guy seem so damn happy? _

Beside him, the kid moaned, clutching his head. Kurogane stepped closer, then froze as Ashura spoke. "But you promised, Fai. You promised to grant my wish. And we've been waiting. The child and I have been waiting for you."

_The child? _Kurogane tensed, wondering what kind of sick bastard brought a child with him as he waited for a bunch of hostile travelers to appear.

And then Ashura lifted his cloak, and all Kurogane could do was gape. The creature—his brain scarcely recognized it as human, let alone a child—stood at the man's side, trembling slightly. His eyes seemed to bulge, the flesh around them worn away, skin draped over bones. Matted hair hung from his head, limp and dingy yellow. His fingers looked as if they would snap instead of bend because they were so thin, and his whole body appeared terribly fragile. Not skin draped over bone, but rice paper draped over glass.

He'd seen a lot of awful shit in his lifetime. Men slain in battle or by demons, women and children slaughtered, nobles dead by an assassin's knife. He'd left behind plenty of bodies in his service to Tomoyo. Yet nothing—_nothing—_he'd ever seen had horrified him this much. He could only stare, paralyzed, as his mind absorbed the scene.

And then a wall of magic slammed into him, and he collapsed under the cascade of memories.

* * *

He wasn't sure who he was anymore.

Identity crises weren't new to him. He'd had several, starting with the day he'd taken his brother's name, but including the choices he'd made during this journey and his decision to stick to his promises, however meaningless they'd seemed at the time. Between this moment and Tokyo, he'd endured many trials. He'd vacillated between cheerfulness and despair, noise and silence, sobriety and drunkenness, perseverance and hopelessness. But now, as Ashura pushed those long-suppressed memories back into his head, he felt himself slipping again. Fai . . . Yuui . . .

He didn't know which he was supposed to be. He hadn't been Yuui in such a long time, yet as those memories slammed into him—the tower and the valley, the corpses, the mad king—he found himself crouching among the bodies, hearing his brother's voice for the first time in years.

His brother called him Yuui. Logically, he knew he'd abandoned that name and taken Fai's instead. And he'd thought of himself as Fai for years. Yet that old name still called to him, bringing with it a flood of guilt and pain so strong that his body bowed beneath it.

His past played out, shifting between memories with the same seamless clarity of the screens he'd seen in Piffle World and Infinity. Being cast into the pit, separated from his brother by cold stone and height. Stacking corpses in a hopeless attempt to create a sort of stairway to Fai's prison. Watching the sovereign who had condemned them fall into the pit, then drive a sword through his own throat, cursing them even as his mad ramblings turned into incomprehensible gurgles.

After a time, the magically-enforced vision relaxed, allowing him a sort of in-between view. He saw the pit where he'd suffered, but also the emaciated face of his still-childlike twin, standing at Ashura's side.

"The choice was made, was it not?" Ashura said, his voice distant. "At that time . . ."

The vision took hold of him again, sweeping him back to those last hours in the pit. Impressions that had only vaguely settled in his subconscious burst into clarity. The dark man—Fei Wang Reed—reached through space and time, promising him a way out. For a price. But then, there was always a price. A consequence. A reaction. He'd understood that, even then. _My fault, my fault, my fault . . . Fai, I'm so sorry._

The vision shifted again, and he watched his twin fling himself from the tower. He appeared to float for a moment, as if suspended in the air, and through the remembered shock, a thought crossed his mind: _Fai can fly. Who knew? _And then Fai was falling, falling, falling.

His body hit the ground with an awful thud. The world itself went still, as if mourning.

"Stop . . ." he murmured, trying to drag himself back into real time even as he dipped beneath the surface again, dragged along with the current. New images flitted in front of his face, but they seemed . . . wrong, somehow. Not down, but up. Not open but barred shut. The tower. _  
_

"Only one can leave," boomed the voice that had taunted him from his nightmares for years. "You must choose between you and the other."

_Choose. No. Fai was in the tower. He didn't choose. I took his choice from him. I killed him. _I _did that . . . _

The images playing in front of his eyes seemed to disagree, drawing him deeper into his brother's past. He felt the echo of terror, of distrust, of desperation, and even though that Fai had disappeared years ago, he felt like an invader, stealing his brother's last memories just as he'd stolen his life, his name. Except . . . Except . . .

"Save Yuui," the real Fai whispered, his voice hoarse. "I'll die. Save Yuui."

Another shift, and he was lying back in the valley, crouching over his brother's corpse, dipping his fingers in the still-warm blood as if that would somehow make the horror of it all more tangible, more real. The air nearby shimmered like a heat mirage, and even through his shock, the disturbance alerted him. His frail body tensed, his mind reaching for magic that he hadn't been able to touch in a time immeasurable. He saw Ashura emerge from the space between worlds, the first living figure besides the Valerian King to fall into the pit. An angel of death, coming to take them both.

"I've come for you," Ashura said, reaching for him. Yuui clutched his dead brother tighter.

"From Gehenna?" he asked. "From Hell?"

"From another world."

His heart jumped with twin pangs of hope and despair. _He must be here to take Fai away._

"Is this where you wish to be?" Ashura asked.

"There . . . is something I have to do, so I . . ." He trailed off, voice cracking from disuse.

"If so, you must not stay here. You must live."

_Live, _he thought. _Why live when it's a crime to be born? Why live without Fai? Unless . . . _Echoes of the dark sorcerer's words rang in his ears. _Unless it was true. Unless I really_ can _bring Fai back. But why does this man want me to live? _The answer jumped to his lips even as he puzzled over it. "To be unhappy?" _To be alone? _

Ashura shook his head. "To grant me a wish."

_A wish. What wish? What could he want from me? How will he hurt me? How will he betray me?_

"Shall we go?" Ashura asked, holding out a hand. "This isn't the only world in existence. I can take you elsewhere."

Yuui stared at the offered hand for a long moment, torn between distrust and hope. And though he knew his hopes would end in disappointment, the chance to get out was too valuable to risk. He reached forward, hand trembling.

"What is your name, child?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating. He'd chosen his own life over his brother's. He remembered that much on his own, despite the conflicting images from Fai's cell in the tower. He'd been selfish. _I don't have to be selfish now. I should give Fai whatever I can. I should give him his life back. Or, if I can't, I should let him live through me. _He firmed his jaw and looked up. "Fai. Call me Fai."

The world shifted again, and suddenly Fai(Yuui?) was sitting in the throne room, healthy and strong and much older than the children in the pit. He gasped, the parade of memories lurching to a halt as he returned to the present moment. A warm pressure folded around his palm, just as it had back then, and he looked up to meet Ashura's dark eyes. "You must know," he said, "as the one who received that child's memories, that back then, that child was given the same choice as you. Fai . . . No, you're real name is Yuui, is it not?"

His body jerked, then went still.

Ashura went on. "You took Fai's name, though he was dead, and your name, Yuui, disappeared from the world. However . . ." Here, he smiled, his face coming alive with amusement. "that does not lessen your guilt."

He flinched, bowing his head. _That's right. No matter what happened, I lived. I walked away. And Fai didn't. _

"Be at ease, Fai. The two you travel with have seen it as well. Seen your past."

_No, _he thought, nausea twisting in his stomach like a hot knife as he looked over his shoulder. _No, no, no . . . Not them. Not _them_. _

From halfway across the room, a pair of eyes glinted like rubies, dark with outrage. The last of his willpower crumbled under that stare. _They know. They know what I've done. _

"Now, shall we see the true you, Fai?" Ashura asked. "See the promises you made in your past? See everything that you know?"

He barely heard the words, his eyes locked with the ninja's face even as his mind cataloged the rest of the scene. Syaoran crouched on the ground, face drawn with pain as the castle's magic—Ashura's magic—wove patterns around him. The boy looked frighteningly pale, his lips whitening as he pressed them together. Kurogane knelt at his side, an arm wrapped around his shoulders as if to protect him from the destructive magic. _Or to __protect__ him from me, _Fai thought, pain flaring in his chest. His body collapsed in on itself at the realization. Traitor. Liar. Foe. They saw it all now, yet he could feel the memories nipping at his mind, demanding his attention as his old self bargained with Fei Wang Reed.

Worse, he'd always known he'd betray them, and he still couldn't stop himself from hurting over it.

"And your other curse," Reed said, finally drawing him into the memory. His old self looked up, terror burning in his eyes. "You need not remember it. You will go on a journey. On this journey, you will visit many worlds."

_He made me forget this, _Fai realized, absorbing the new information with disturbed fascination.

"You will travel with a desert princess, together with the image of a boy I have prepared, and you will be the trumping move of my plan."

_Plan, _Fai thought. _What plan? My other curse already activated. What's going to happen now? _

_ Am I going to kill everyone here? _


	84. Night is Darkest

Chapter Eighty-Four

The kid's head lolled against his shoulder, body going limp. "Kurogane-san . . ." he groaned, his voice weak, his eyes glazed over. Kurogane clutched the boy to his chest, glaring at the mage. Fai met his gaze, eyes wide. _All this time, _Kurogane thought, grinding his teeth. _All this time, he's been planning to betray us. And all this time, he pretended to be on our side._

The mage opened his mouth, then closed it, swallowing. His gaze never strayed from his face, but with every passing second, he seemed to grow more haggard. His eye became glossy, like polished marble, and he withered, drawing in on himself until he looked as ancient as the stars above.

The kid went limp, surrendering to the pulsing magic swirling around them. When the meat bun tumbled off the boy's shoulder a moment later, Kurogane guessed that their magic made them more vulnerable to whatever dark sorcery wove through these halls. _I'm the only one left who can do anything, _he thought, rising to his feet. _I have to protect them._

Fear flashed across the mage's face as he approached, but he didn't move, didn't release the emaciated child that had once been his brother. Kurogane advanced, each step measured, deliberate. When he got close, he stopped, clasping his hands together and drawing Souhi out of his palm with the spell Fai had attached to his hand less than an hour ago.

In front of him, the wizard stiffened. "I won't die," he whispered. "Not until Fai is brought back to life. Not until I can return his name to him . . ."

_Fool, _Kurogane thought, pointing Souhi toward the mage. Ashura's regal chuckle rang in his ears. "Very well. Then the one who must die . . . is him."

Fai glanced at his king, then back at Kurogane, wavering for an instant before raising his hand. Magic crackled at his fingertips, a bright cobalt blue. Another spell rippled through the room, subtler than Fai's, and the mirror-like floor fractured between them, each fragment repeating snippets of Fai's memories. _Bastard, _Kurogane thought, eyes sliding over to where Ashura stood, smirking. _He's using the idiot's darkest memories to get inside his head. _

He turned his gaze back to Fai, waiting for the attack.

"You gave me your word, Fai," Ashura said when the wizard didn't immediately strike. "You said you'd kill anyone who brings death and destruction to this world."

Resolve formed in the mage's eye. In less than a second, he'd carved several runes in the air, each shimmering with brilliant blue light. They shot toward Kurogane in an arc, the edges of each rune flickering like flames. He raised his sword, focusing his energy and slicing through the string of magic. The letters broke apart, fracturing like the glass fragments floating between them. Kurogane pressed his advantage, his body falling into old patterns. Swing, advance, block. Swing, advance, block. Fai cast another set of runes, which hurtled toward him like flaming arrows. He braced himself, gritting his teeth as the spell slammed into his sword with physical force.

_Almost there, _he thought, advancing as the magic folded around him. It bit at his skin, and even focusing on Fai, he could sense the pain and fear behind the spell. _He can't win this fight, _Kurogane thought. _He's not strong enough. _

He broke through the last wave, bringing Souhi around in a wide arc. At the last moment, Fai erected another string of runes between them, blocking the brunt of the attack. The letters cracked against his sword, their light wavering. A high-pitched noise emanated from the dying spell, as if it was crying out in pain. Kurogane broke through it, ignoring the way that sound vibrated in his teeth, his bones. He would _not _let this happen. "Let's stop this farce right here," he growled, letting the blade rest on the magician's neck.

* * *

Syaoran faded in and out of awareness, ears ringing as the foreign magic twisted through his body. _What's happening to me? _he wondered, opening his eyes. Shapes and colors shifted around in front of his eyes, out of focus, and his stomach turned as if he'd just stepped off a carnival ride. Next to him, Mokona lay on the floor, eyes closed, still wearing the little swatch of fabric he'd wrapped around her before they'd come to this world.

As his vision came into focus, he turned his head to watch the fight. Blue and white magic streaked across the room, crackling like lightning. _That's Fai's magic. _He blinked slowly, confused. Hadn't Fai said he'd already used up a lot of magic today? Shouldn't he have been conserving it?

The throbbing in his skull eased a bit, allowing him to think more clearly. _If the king's magic isn't affecting me as strongly as it was before, that must mean he's distracted. I should act before he remembers me. _He tried to sit up, then slumped, a powerful wave of dizziness nearly overtaking him. He laid on the floor for a few moments, head pounding at every crash and explosion. After a few seconds, he turned his head to watch, praying the disorientation would taper off.

In the center of the magic maelstrom stood Kurogane, warding off waves of bright blue magic and advancing toward Ashura. Glass shards floated in the air around him, showing images of what Syaoran assumed to be Fai's past. _Another consequence of my wish, _he thought, closing his eyes as he remembered that day in Clow Country. His hand tightened into a fist. _Everything I've done to make up for that day, and I haven't changed anything. All I've done is destroy the people most important to me. _He looked into the maelstrom, watching bright blue phoenixes emerge from circles of runes.

_ If we live through this, I'm going to owe everyone an apology, _he thought, dragging himself closer to the fight. His muscles trembled with the aftereffects of the king's magic.

Suddenly, Fai shrieked, calling out for the king. Syaoran looked up, then drew back as magic gathered around him. Kurogane turned, looking away from the king and refocusing on Fai. He raised his sword, already slick with blood, and used it to block the ripples of magic shooting in his direction.

_What if they kill each other? _Syaoran wondered. _What will I have left, then? Not Sakura. Not __Kurogane. Not even Fai. I'll be alone again. _

He slammed his fist against the floor, gritting his teeth. Alone. For seven years, Fei Wang Reed had kept him in a tube, unable to act on the world he saw through the Other's eyes. For seven years, he'd gone without seeing his Sakura. For seven years, he'd contemplated the consequences of his wish—consequences that had only grown harsher as he'd come to care for the people he'd never actually met. And all that time, he'd been alone. _And if I don't stop them, I'll be alone again, _he thought. "Have to . . . hurry," he rasped, voicing the words as if that would firm his resolve. He dragged his body toward the fight.

Then a wall of magic slammed into him, and he fell unconscious again.

* * *

"Your Majesty!" the mage shouted, his voice strangled, broken.

Kurogane would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't been preoccupied by the cyclone of magic heading toward him. He sliced through it with his sword, thankful that Souhi had enough sorcery embedded in her steel to deflect a magic-based attack. Still, the spell knocked him back, throwing off his sense of balance. He gritted his teeth, blue flames licking up at his knuckles. _Come on, _he thought. _Give me an opening. You can't keep this up forever. _

The magic bubble popped, leaving only open air beneath him. Kurogane threw his weight forward, looking down as he began to fall. His adrenaline-enhanced mind cataloged all the details. On the far side of the throne room, the kid lay on the ground, body limp, eyes closed. On the other side, the mad king watched the duel like a spectator in a tournament.

Below, Fai cradled his dead-but-not-dead brother in his arms.

_Oh, shit, _Kurogane thought, eyes narrowing. _This is going to ruin him. _

He considered that for a fraction of a second. The mage wouldn't let go of his past, not when he was tied so strongly to this part of it. Logically, Kurogane knew that it was better for the idiot to move on than keep playing Reed's games. Time had healed even his wounds, and he'd lost everything when the demons had attacked Suwa. But what happened next would break the mage, possibly send him into a rage that would kill them all.

Kurogane just couldn't see any other option. He lifted his sword. The mage froze, raising an arm to block his face. Kurogane brought Souhi around, shredding through cloth, skin, bone.

And the mage's long-dead brother shattered as if made of glass.


	85. Before the Dawn

Chapter Eighty-Five

Fai's scream dragged Syaoran back from unconsciousness. He lifted his head, body responding sluggishly. His limbs felt heavy, as if his veins had been pumped full of lead. _I have to do . . . something, _he thought, as Fai's shriek died away. Part of him wondered why Fai was yelling his own name. But . . . no, that didn't make sense. _Right. __He's n__ot Fai. He's Yuui. The other twin. _

Yes, that sounded right. Syaoran took a deep breath, trying to hear what Kurogane was snarling at the magician. Through the sound of breaking glass—of fracturing memories—he could barely make out one word in five. Only when Kurogane raised his voice and turned to Ashura could Syaoran make sense of the words. "Do you really have to keep this farce going? All of this is being ripped apart by the seams! What are you plotting that forces you to show us the past?"

The king smiled, and though his voice sounded soft and polite, Syaoran could detect the faint echo of magic making it audible across the whole room. "All I ask is for my wish to be granted." His dark eyes flitted to Fai's crumpled form. "Fai. You promised, did you not? You promised you would bring death to anyone who threatens the people of our country, no matter who that person may be."

The oppressive magic flared again, and with it came a barrage of images: the king's hand, dripping blood; Fai's face, tight with the pain of betrayal; coils of magic twisting around the king, nudging him into a deep slumber. Syaoran closed his eyes, sorrow flooding his chest as the visions burned themselves into his mind.

"I can't do it!" Fai cried, still lying on the floor where Kurogane had pinned him. "You're the one who took me away from that valley. You were the first person who treated us with anything approaching kindness, whatever your motives. I can't kill you."

The king smiled, his face unchanging. "Then I shall continue what I started." He raised a hand. Syaoran braced himself for another wave of dizziness. He still felt the taint of the king's magic pressing down on his mind. It was taking everything he had to stay focused, to keep crawling toward the center of the chaos in the hopes that he'd be able to do something about it.

But the crushing weight didn't come. Instead, the pool next to Ashura erupted, water gushing upward like a fountain. A figure emerged from the pool, a slight body covered in black and white, arms bare. And then the shapes and colors came together, and Syaoran recognized the figure.

"Sakura-chan!" Fai cried.

"Sakura . . ."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Ashura remarked, looking at Sakura as if studying a piece of art. "She has no soul, yet still she lives."

"You—" Fai began. Ashura cut him off.

"This is the same as the magic you used when you changed that feather into human form, Fai. You created that child—Chii, was it?—to resemble your late mother."

Fai shot to his feet, his arm streaking out in a wide arc. Magic, raw and unshaped, exploded from his fingertips, shooting toward his king. At the same time, Kurogane charged, sword in hand.

_The game has changed, _Syaoran thought, rebelling against the darkness teasing at the edges of his mind. Ashura deflected the magic missiles, summoning translucent disks in the air to absorb them. One of the spells broke through, grazing the king's side.

"It seems this young girl is very important to you," Ashura said, looking toward Fai. He raised one hand, etching runes in the air in much the same manner Fai had. Rippling spheres of energy shot toward all of them.

Syaoran reacted instinctively, raising an arm to cover his face. He heard a sickening thud, like a bird flying into a window, then felt the gentle ripples of Fai's magic near his face. _A shield, _Syaoran realized. A moment later, another barrage of magic forced him to duck behind the force-field. _But it's not going to hold for long. _

He sucked in a deep breath, wincing as the shield fractured down the center. The next attack shattered it, leaving him exposed, and Syaoran felt the dark magic slicing into his skin.

* * *

"Syaoran!" Fai shouted Ashura's magic smashed through the barrier.

Kurogane turned, nausea roiling in his stomach. He'd seen the shield collapse from the corner of his eye, heard the sizzle of magic. _No, _he thought, heart racing. _No. Not the kid. Not now. Please, not the kid . . . _

Tendrils of magic wrapped around Kurogane's body, pinning him where he stood as spears of ice shot toward the boy. Syaoran looked up, his eyes glazed with pain. The sharpened icicles struck him in the shoulder, the chest, the face. Blood spattered across the floor.

"Don't do it!" Fai shouted suddenly, and Kurogane almost yelled at him. Couldn't he see that the damage was already done? Didn't he realize how badly the kid was hurt?

Still conscious, the kid lifted his head, blood dripping down a cut on his cheek. His dark brown eyes flickered to Kurogane's face, and if he hadn't been trapped by Ashura's magic, he'd have placed himself between the king and the boy, as he had in Infinity to protect him from Fai's hurricane of magic.

Then the kid turned toward the king, raising one arm in a gesture Kurogane recognized from Tokyo. Electricity crackled in the air, then surged forward as he commanded it. "_Raitei Shourai_!"

The spell rocked the throne room. Stone pillars cracked. The floor buckled. Kurogane turned back to the king and realized with some shock that he was holding the princess in his arms, a knife poised over her throat.

The kid's attack distracted the king for a precious moment, and the spells binding Kurogane's body in place relaxed enough for him to rip free. He shot forward, propelled by adrenaline. One shot. He just had to get close enough for one clean shot, and this would be over.

Ashura's eyes flickered to him, glittering with amusement. He lifted one slender hand and sent a burst of magic toward him. Kurogane started to turn, gritting his teeth as he realized he wouldn't be able to dodge the attack, then felt the savage, blistering agony of the king's magic ripping into his side.

* * *

"_No_!" Syaoran screamed as Kurogane fell. Drops of blood arced through the air, splashing against the floor like macabre raindrops. The ninja's body hit the floor with a dull thud, like a hammer wrapped in cloth. "Kurogane-san!"

The ninja didn't answer. Didn't move. The room itself seemed to go still, time freezing as it had in Clow. The magic firefight raged between Fai and Ashura, a storm growing more intense with every second. But none of the explosions reached his ears. It was as if he'd gone deaf after hearing Kurogane hit the ground.

Head swimming, Syaoran crawled forward.

It took a long time to get there, and he wondered how much longer the battle could go on. Fai had said he'd used up a lot of magic already, and what he still had weakened every time he tapped that limited reservoir. Adrenaline and anger would fuel him only so long.

Eventually, Syaoran reached the spot where Kurogane had fallen. He stopped there, collapsing as he caught his breath, then skimmed his hand along the man's sleeve. "Kurogane-san . . ." he whispered, unsure what else to say. His fingers curled around the ninja's sword arm, trembling.

Kurogane stirred, and Syaoran's heart jumped into his throat. "Ugh . . . What the hell . . . Damn wizards."

"You're alive," Syaoran whispered, still clutching the man's arm as the relief washed through him. "I wasn't sure that you . . . I'm so glad."

"Yeah." Kurogane rolled to his feet, planting his hand on the floor to stabilize himself. "I'm glad you're alive, too, but let's not get sappy about this. We need a plan."

The words brought him back to the present, and he winced as another crash shuddered through the throne room. _I can't believe the palace hasn't collapsed yet, _he thought. _It must be magically reinforced. _

"Look," Kurogane said. Syaoran glanced up as Fai landed lightly in front of them, holding Sakura's body in his arms. His expression looked hollow, broken.

"Take Sakura-chan," he said quietly, setting her down between them. "I can—"

"Don't even start," Kurogane growled. "Don't fucking _start_ with whatever self-sacrificing bullshit you're about to spout off."

Fai said nothing. He drew back, as pale and graceful as a wraith, and turned to his king. "You were wrong about me, Ashura. I have never been kindhearted. All I've been is weak. And it's that very weakness that brought us to this point. Let's end this, Your Majesty. Let's fulfill your wish." He raised his chin. "And mine as well."

Fai moved fast, his vampire speed kicking in as runes flew from his fingers. He didn't even seem to be writing them out now, but rather crafting them with his mind alone. They slammed into the sphere of energy surrounding Ashura, then erupted in white flames, ballooning out from the point of impact. _That has to be it, _Syaoran thought. _No one could survive that. _

The magic broke apart, repelled from within. Ashura's pale, delicate hand shot out of the smoke and coiled around Fai's throat. "I explained it once, did I not? That the more people I murdered, the more powerful I became." He squeezed, making Fai gasp. Syaoran watched in mute horror, one hand wrapped around Sakura's, the other resting on Kurogane's shoulder.

"You have to attack," Kurogane hissed, glancing at him.

Syaoran's head snapped up. "What?"

"Attack. Magic. Now."

"But Fai-san's in the way!"

"Just do it!"

Syaoran winced as Fai gasped in pain. The veins in his neck pulsed visibly as the king's grip restricted circulation. _Kurogane's right. If I don't attack now, Fai will die. _He raised his hand, concentrating his energy in his fingertips. "Raitei . . ."

He never finished the spell. Ashura flicked his fingers in his direction, freezing water from the pool and flinging jagged clusters of ice at him. They pelted him like snowballs but drew blood like knives. A deep, numbing chill seeped into his bones wherever the ice touched him, and he found himself lying on the floor, pinned to the tile as he bled from dozens of different cuts. A circle of light formed in the air in front of him, surrounded by runes. _It's over, _he thought as the king's magic wound around his body, holding him down. _I've cheated death too many times today. I've used up all my luck. _

Spears of ice emerged from the circle, pointing toward his heart. Syaoran wondered if this was what death-row criminals felt when they stood in front of the firing squad.

His vision blurred for a moment, and a black smudge skated across his field of vision, shearing through the runes as if they were made of paper. Syaoran blinked rapidly, then froze as the world came back into focus. Kurogane glanced back at him, sword in hand, eyes burning with something between relief and pain.

"I will always protect you," he said, his voice soft, tender.

Syaoran swallowed, trembling. "And I will always love you."

Kurogane nodded once, then looked toward Ashura. "All right. Time to end this."


	86. Equivalent Exchange

Chapter Eighty-Six

Kurogane shot forward like an arrow from a bow, shattering the walls of magic with his sword as he passed. Pain flared in his forehead, as if someone had taken a branding iron to his skin.

"A ward of protection, is it?" Ashura muttered, hands spinning in graceful circles as he unleashed another stream of runes. _Not this time, _Kurogane thought, shearing through the magic with his sword. _It's time to end this. _

"I don't care if you _are _a king," he growled, stepping into striking range. "_Nobody _fucks with the people _I _care about." Kurogane drove the point of his sword through Ashura's chest. Blood spurting out along the length of the blade, a brilliant, burning red. Ashura's eyes widened—_like fish eye__s_, Kurogane thought irrelevantly—and his grip on Fai's neck loosened.

The pain centered on Kurogane's forehead flared once more, then dissipated. _The curse, _he thought. _I forgot about Tomoyo's curse. _

"That ward protected you, I see," Ashura gasped, looking at him with fondness, like a father looking at his newborn son. His shoulders sunk as the life poured out of him, but still, he smiled. And the thing was, it wasn't a fake smile. It wasn't anything like the too-cheerful grins the mage tried to get away with, or the pale shadows those grins had become. It was . . . genuine. "Remove your sword."

_Oh, like hell I will—_

"Remove it!"

His lips twisted into a sneer. _Fine, _he thought, ripping Souhi free. Another gush of blood accompanied the motion, splattering his coat. _You'll bleed out faster that way. _

Pain flashed through the king's eyes as he turned to Fai. He reached out, tucking a strand of golden hair behind the mage's ear. "You must not shed tears for one such as I," he rasped. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. "I was hoping you would kill me . . . and remove that final curse, but . . . with their help, you may yet overcome it." He swayed, his hand falling away. Nearly half the fabric of his royal robes was stained crimson.

He fell with the grace of a king and the ceremony of a peasant. Fai collapsed next to him, trembling. "Your . . . majesty . . ."

Kurogane glanced over his shoulder, then relaxed as he saw Syaoran sitting up, still alive. The kid gave him a nod, clutching the princess's body in his arms as the magic around him dissipated. Kurogane inclined his head, then crouched next to the mage, hoping the gesture came off as comforting rather than as a sign of weakness. Now that he'd dealt with the main problem, the aches of his body became more pressing. Between the king and the fool, he had enough cuts and burns to merit a week of rest, though he would've adamantly refused such if someone had suggested he take it. Wherever they ended up next, he hoped they at least had basic first-aid.

Something stirred in his peripheral vision, emerging from the pool in the center of the room. He tensed, grabbing Souhi's hilt in case he needed to attack, then relaxed as Fai—not the man beside him, but the Fai who had perished in that pit of death—rose from the water. _Didn't I kill him? _Kurogane wondered, remembering how the child's body had shattered when Souhi had sliced through it. _Maybe that one was an illusion, _he finally decided. It hadn't activated Tomoyo's curse, after all.

Though the child's body gave no signs of life, the egg-shaped gem in his hands cracked and shook as if alive. After a few seconds, it shattered, releasing a pale white feather. _How many feathers fell into this world, anyway? _Kurogane wondered. There had been the one the mage had given the boy in Hanshin, then the one that had come out of the magical construct that had taken the princess away in Infinity. With this one, that made three. Didn't it?

_Doesn't matter, _he decided, watching the feather float over to where the princess lay. It rippled as it merged with her body, but the girl didn't move. _Of course not. That's just her body. Her soul is somewhere else. _

"Fai . . ." the mage whispered, staring at one of the shards Ashura had used to replay his memories. An image shimmered over the glossy surface, and the air wavered, giving a voice to the people in the memory. Kurogane considered eavesdropping, then let it go. He'd been prying into the mage's past ever since they'd met in the witch's shop, and now he knew more than he'd needed to know. It wasn't that he _cared. _He didn't care about anyone's past. But he did feel a little guilty for dredging up those memories, now that he knew how horrible they were. _Nothing to do about that now except let him have whatever privacy he needs._

As soon as the memory concluded, the real Fai collapsed, skin turning to dust. The mage reached for his brother, a sob breaking free of his throat.

"Let him rest," Kurogane ordered. The same words Tomoyo had said to him when his mother had been slaughtered.

The mage froze for a moment, then collapsed. "It was all my fault. I could never let him rest, I . . . I . . ."

_Oh, gods, please don't start crying, _he thought, grimacing as a single tear slipped down the idiot's cheek. He glanced away, feeling useless and awkward. _Can't do anything. He's not going to pull it together just because I said so, anyway. We'll probably have to drag him to the next world. Damn it. _

"Kurogane-san," Syaoran called, limping over to him with Sakura's body in his arms. "We have to get out of here." He swayed slightly, and Kurogane stepped forward, grasping his arm to steady him.

"We will. We've got to—"

"We have to go _now_. This world . . ." He hesitated, looking over Kurogane's shoulder. Instinctively, he glanced back, looking for threats. When he saw the thick black lines spreading along the floor around the mage, he froze. _What? _

"Hey, mage, what—" The tendrils of magic spread suddenly, like blood dispersing in water. The lines crawled up the walls, wrapping around pillars, furniture, rubble, shaking the throne room even as the few meters around the mage started to emit a bright glow. "Hey! What's going on?"

"This is the second curse," Fai whispered hollowly.

_Second curse. _The thought chilled him, echoing the king's dying words to the mage. _The bastard knew, _Kurogane realized, stunned by the injustice. Wasn't all this enough on its own? All the pain they'd endured, all the awful memories Fai had from that pit, all the blood they'd shed to make it this far . . . Wasn't it enough?

"The world is closing," Fai said, his voice suddenly urgent. Terrified. "My magic . . . It's my magic doing this."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means we won't be able to leave this place."

_You've got to be shitting me. _He grabbed the idiot's arm and started dragging him toward the meat bun. "We're getting out of here! Right _now_."

"We can't! None of us." He coughed, and for the first time, Kurogane saw how pallid and frail he looked. "I guess my magic _doesn't _get stronger the more I use it. Probably . . . the more I use it, the faster I rush toward death."

"You're just figuring that out _now_?" _  
_

"I still have some magic left," Fai continued, his voice quieter. "I can . . . I can try to . . ." He raised his head, looking at Syaoran. "Don't lose track of Sakura-chan or Mokona."

"Fai-san . . ."

"Just what are you planning?" Kurogane demanded. "Because if it's some self-sacrificing, redemption bullshit, I swear—" The surge of magic cut him off, and his vision flashed with blue light for a moment.

"I'm planning . . . a departure!" The runes twisted around each of them, splitting them into two separate groups. Fai pushed him away "Go with them!"

_He doesn't plan to make it out of here, _Kurogane realized. He snatched the mage's wrist, refusing to leave. He wasn't going to lose anyone else. Fai's eye popped wide open, then twitched as he started coughing up blood. "It's not enough. I don't have enough magic." The black lines curled up around them, forming a sphere. "You have to get out of here. I'm tied to the curse—I can't make it out. Just _go_!"

"No."

"The circle's going to close!"

"Let it close," Kurogane growled. "I'm sick of watching people die."

"You love Syaoran-kun, don't you?" Fai pointed toward the boy. "Go to him! You can't save me."

For a moment—just for the barest fraction of a second—Kurogane wavered. Then he tightened his grip on the mage's arm. "He'd never forgive me if I sacrificed you to save myself. Things could never be the same between us again."

"There won't be _anything_ between you if you die," Fai argued as the magic sphere closed around them. Fai raked his nails along the inside of the barrier, tears glittering in his eye. "You shouldn't have stayed. You can't save me."

"I'm sick of that, too," he said. "It's always like that. It's only the people I care about that I can't protect. I don't care how aggravating you are, I'm not going to watch you die."

"Look," Fai said, gesturing to a rapidly growing hole in the magic field. Beyond it, Kurogane saw the kid holding up the pork bun's earring as magic speared through the globe. "There's your way out. Go!"

"No!"

_Is that your choice? _The words came to his mind as if whispered in his ear. _Is that what you truly wish? _

_Yes, _he thought fiercely, not knowing where the voice came from and not particularly caring.

_Then you must exchange magic equivalent to that person's magic, _the voice said. A memory flickered through his mind, brought to the surface by the same foreign presence as the words, and he watched the mage drawing runes above his hand, merging Souhi with his body.

_An exchange of magic, _he thought, feeling the supernatural tingle of the wizard's magic in his arm. Souhi shivered, simultaneously warm and frigid in his hands. _Of course. _

He grit his teeth and released Fai's hand, scowling at the relieved look the mage sent him. _This had better work, _he thought, changing his grip on Souhi's hilt.

He brought the blade upward in a sharp motion, cutting through fabric, flesh, and bone. Blood spurted from his shoulder, a violent red shower. His arm, imbued with magic, fell to the ground, and he let Souhi fall with it. He felt no pain—there was too much adrenaline swimming in his blood for that—but he registered the look of utter shock on the mage's face as he grabbed the blonde by the collar with his remaining hand and yanked him toward the opening in the sphere. From behind, he felt the distinct ripple of the pork bun's transportation magic.

"I can't believe you did that," Fai whispered as the magic circle spread out beneath them. "I can't believe it . . ."

_Yeah, _Kurogane thought fuzzily as the dimensional sea folded around them. _Neither can I. What kind of idiot throws away such a good sword? _The liquid swallowed them up, as dark and empty as the space between stars. Kurogane closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of his blood along the side of his shirt. And then he was falling, falling, falling . . .


	87. In the Arms of a Sakura Tree

Chapter Eighty-Seven

They landed in a grassy field surrounded by people with swords.

As soon as he hit the ground, Syaoran craned his neck to look into the swirling mass above. From the dimensional sea, the others emerged, Fai clutching Sakura's body, Kurogane limp and covered in blood.

The ninja's body hit the ground with an awful thud, like a dropped watermelon. "Kurogane-san?" he squeaked, his throat painfully tight as he crouched next to the ninja's body. Blood stained his coat, and his body smelled like metal. _Of course it smells like metal, _Syaoran thought. _Blood is full of iron._

"Hey!" someone called from behind him.

Syaoran's head snapped up, the familiarity of the voice jarring him out of his concern. He scanned the crowd, flipping through his clone's recollections as he tried to give the voice a face, a name. When he saw a woman with russet skin and dark hair, it all rushed back to him. "Souma-san!"

Souma's eyes snapped to his face, glittering with suspicion. In one hand, she held a blade too short for a sword and too long for a knife. She sat atop a massive black horse, leading a column of armor-clad men. Syaoran hesitated, suddenly uneasy. True, the Souma his clone had met in Outo had been friendly, but Yuuko had once cautioned them that friends in one world could be dangerous in the next. And this Souma led a pack of soldiers.

"Both of you, kneel," Souma ordered, sliding down from her horse.

"Fai-san—" he said, looking for guidance. The vampire made a sharp gesture to silence him, then laid Sakura's body down as he knelt.

Syaoran glanced at Kurogane, sickened by the damage, then went to his knees. Perhaps these people were hostile, but they also appeared organized. Like troops. And if there was one thing soldiers needed, it was good medical care. _Maybe they can help us, _he thought. _Maybe they can save him._

Souma approached, her eyes shifting between them. Several men, all wearing the same black and red armor as Souma, flanked her on either side, weapons raised. Souma stopped several paces away from them, her eyes flickering to Kurogane's body. "Get the medics," she barked, making a sharp gesture to the men on her right. They hurried toward the center of the group.

Syaoran glanced at Fai, then at Sakura. He couldn't make himself look to the side. Couldn't bear to see the gaping wound on Kurogane's shoulder, the blood dampening his clothes.

Souma approached. Instinctively, he shrunk back, still trembling after their abrupt departure from Ceres. But she didn't attack, only looked at him for a few moments, her face grim. Finally, she said, "There's no reason to cry about it. That idiot couldn't die even if he wanted to."

Syaoran blinked, not comprehending.

Souma crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Tomoyo-hime spoke of your arrival. You've been invited to Shirasagi Castle."

He flinched, then looked down. "I . . . I don't . . . Where _are_ we?"

"The country of Nihon." Souma cast a glance at her medics as they rushed to Kurogane's side, and her expression softened.

_Nihon? _Syaoran thought, shocked. It seemed almost too convenient, that they would land not only in a relatively peaceful world, but in a world that knew of them. _And more convenient that the first people we see have healers with them, _he thought, glancing at Fai. _It can't be coincidence. Kurogane wouldn't have bothered planning for this. But Sakura could have done something before the tournament . . . _

_No_, he decided. _That doesn't make sense, either._ Sakura's last gambit had been splitting her body and soul in Infinity—if she'd been worried about what had followed, she wouldn't have had the means to stop it. _Fai must have planned ahead for this, knowing he was returning to a world that would very likely be fatal for one of __us. __K__nowing he'd made a deal that jeopardized our survival._

"His condition is critical," one of the healers said, addressing Souma. "We have to bring him to the castle."

Souma nodded, then gestured to the rest of her band. At once, they fell back into line, mounting their horses and taking the reins. "You and you," Souma said, pointing first to Fai, then to him. "We have two spare horses. Follow our group. If you get lost, head west until you reach Shirasagi Castle." She turned sharply, abandoning them there as she mounted her own horse. "Let's go!"

The group took off, dragging the wooden cart upon which the healers had laid Kurogane. Syaoran stared as the cart passed, throat closing up as the healers, stripped away the bloody rags of Kurogane's shirt to expose the wound. Stringy red flesh stuck out of where his arm had been sheared off by Souhi's blade, and blood glistened along his upper body, not yet dry enough to turn brown, but no longer pouring from the wound as it had before. Though less gruesome, the wound on his side had been burned away by magic, exposing the bright red muscle underneath.

It was all too much. Syaoran turned away, knees wobbling. He staggered several feet before he collapsed, then started retching, bringing up bile. His body shook as he coughed, and spittle dripped down his chin.

At some point, Fai came over and laid a hand on his back, steadying him as he retched. Syaoran stayed crumpled up, the nausea turning to desolation as he realized just how much he stood to lose. Kurogane had been everything to him—a mentor, a friend, a lover. What would happen if he died on his way back to the castle? _Who would fight for me? Who would love me?_

"We should get moving," Fai said. "Kuro-pon might get mad if we're not around when he wakes up."

His mind registered the return of the nicknames, but he didn't move. He just crumpled where he knelt, chest heaving with suppressed sobs. He didn't dare speak. Doing so would rip away his last remnants of self-control.

So he sat there, forcing his thoughts into a dark corner as the misery rolled over him. After a time, Fai sighed and stood, walking over to the horses that had been left for them. Syaoran heard him position Sakura's limp body to the front of one horse, tying a cord between her wrists and the reins so she wouldn't fall to either side. "I can still see Souma-chan's soldiers on the horizon," Fai said, shading his eye with his hand. Syaoran wiped his face, ashamed of the saltwater smeared across his cheeks. "We should probably start heading that way."

Syaoran shuffled over to the unattended horse and pulled himself into the saddle. Fai took the lead, keeping their pace at a trot as they headed west. Syaoran let his mind numb, ignoring the worry battering around in his head. He kept track of Fai and controlled his mount, but that was all he did. He couldn't think. He didn't want to think.

They rode for over an hour, glimpsing Souma's soldiers several times before losing sight of them altogether. He wondered if their haste would make a difference, but part of him doubted. By now, Kurogane had been bleeding out for almost an hour and a half. Combined with the lesser injuries he'd sustained in Ceres, the shock alone would probably kill him.

"Look!" Fai called, pointing toward the horizon. Syaoran looked up dully and saw a squarish building rising from the rolling hills. "That must be Shirasagi Castle."

His heart stirred with renewed life, his attention sharpening. He nudged the horse's side with his heel, prompting it to speed up. "Let's go."

They galloped the last half mile, only slowing when they reached the gates, guarded by two men in plated armor. They stepped in front of the entrance, each placing their hands on their swords. "State your business here," one growled.

"Can you please tell us if this is Shirasagi Castle?" Syaoran asked, unable to drop his manners despite the irritation bubbling under his skin. His father had taught him the importance of being polite, even with the limited time they'd had together.

"It is. Do you have business here?"

"We're looking for a ninja," Fai said. "About this tall, broad shoulders, kind of scary. He's missing an arm."

The guards stared at the magician with narrowed eyes, then exchanged glances. Syaoran fidgeted, feeling the waves of suspicion rolling off their armor.

"You may relax," called a voice from the courtyard. "They are our guests."

"Tsukiyomi." The guards shifted, standing rigid before bowing to the new arrival. "We apologize. We did not know."

_Tsukiyomi, _Syaoran thought. _Where have I heard that __before__? _He frowned, then looked up, surprised to recognize the dainty figure wrapped up in ceremonial robes. He glanced around, then dismounted, bowing. "Are you Princess Tomoyo of Nihon?" he asked.

Tomoyo beamed, like a teacher who'd just overheard a particularly insightful observation from their student. "That's right. Kurogane arrived a short time ago."

His heart jumped. _She calls him by name._ "Is he all right?"

She hesitated a beat. "He will live. The arm, of course, is irretrievable."

_Of course, _he thought. _What would it cost to bring it back from Ceres? It's probably not even in one piece anymore. _He shuddered, remembering the overwhelming pressure of the curse's magic. "I see."

"Come. There is much to discuss." She raised one hand, signaling the guards to open the gates. Syaoran urged his horse forward, and Fai followed, supporting Sakura's soulless body in his arms. Syaoran thought about offering to carry her once they dismounted, then decided against it. He'd sustained numerous injuries between the chess match in Infinity and the nightmare in Ceres, and he didn't have Fai's supernatural strength to keep him going. The last thing he needed was to drop the princess on her head.

"Before we address Kurogane's condition, we should bring Sakura-chan someplace where she won't deteriorate without her soul," Tomoyo said.

He fidgeted, unsure which disturbed him more: Tomoyo's knowledge of Sakura's condition, or the informal way Tomoyo had referred to her.

Tomoyo led them around the edge of the castle, nodding at servants and noblemen alike as she crossed paths with them. In turn, people smiled and bowed at her passing, managing to look both adoring and regal. _She must be well-loved by her people, _Syaoran thought, remembering how Sakura—both Sakuras—had elicited the same reaction in Clow.

They ended up standing at the base of a massive sakura tree, pale pink petals fluttering down over their heads. Tomoyo laid her hand on the trunk, smiling softly as they dismounted. "This tree is sacred—it will preserve her body until the time comes when she can be reunited with her soul."

Syaoran nodded as Fai laid Sakura atop one of the more comfortable-looking branches. "Thank you. We're grateful for your assistance." He hesitated, unsure whether it was appropriate to bring up Kurogane now. The whole situation seemed less _real _in this lush garden, as if the natural beauty of the landscape could abolish any worry.

Tomoyo smiled. "You won't be able to visit him just yet, but I can take you to the royal healer to get information about how he's doing. Leave the horses. I will bring you to Lady Hinata."

"That is very kind of you."

She started walking, her flowing robes trailing across the grass. Once or twice, she looked back, as if to check that they were still following. As they reached a door leading inside the castle, she paused and laid a dainty hand on his arm. "He will be all right. You just have to trust in that."

He nodded, doubting his ability to speak around the lump in his throat. He glanced at Fai, who offered him what was probably meant to be a comforting smile. Syaoran looked away. "I hope you're right about that," he said to Tomoyo. _Because I don't want to live with the alternative._


	88. Fracturing Secrets

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Tomoyo led them to a small room with paper walls. "Hinata-sensei," she said, nodding to the woman crushing herbs in the corner. The apothecary looked up from her bowl, then stood so she could bow properly. Syaoran balked, all the words fleeing his mind as he recognized her._ Doctor Yamura? _

The woman rose from her bow, several strands of hair falling over her face. "Yes, Tsukiyomi-sama?"

"I'd like to introduce you to our guests. This is Fai, wizard of Ceres, and Syaoran, traveler of dimensions. They wish to hear of Kurogane's condition."

Doctor Yamura bowed to them, her plain kimono swishing at her feet. Still too shocked to speak, Syaoran bowed back. "I see," she said shortly. "As you wish, Tsukiyomi-sama."

Tomoyo smiled, then retreated through the door. "I'll have the servants bring you both more suitable attire," she said to Fai on her way out. "And you'll have a place to sleep within the hour." She slid the door shut behind her, leaving them alone with the apothecary.

On impulse, Syaoran asked, "Excuse me, but does your last name happen to be Yamura?"

The woman fidgeted, her dark eyes zeroing in on his face. She blinked slowly, as if waiting for him to withdraw his question, then sighed. "That's correct. Is this information important to you?"

He floundered for a moment. "Well . . . It's just . . . I met someone like you. In another world. She was my doctor." At the woman's confused look, he clarified. "My healer. In a place called Infinity. She tended my wounds after I was . . ." _Tortured in a basement. _"Severely injured," he finished awkwardly.

"A healer." Hinata smiled to herself. "I've always considered my work a calling. I suppose it's not so strange that, if there are other versions of me in different worlds, they would also end up healing others." Her smile waned, and she sat down in front of her stone bowl. "Sit down. There is much to discuss."

Syaoran sat cross-legged, mimicking what he'd seen when the Other had glimpsed Kurogane's memories in Recourt. Since Doctor Yamura—Hinata_—_didn't react, he assumed he'd gotten it right.

"Tsukiyomi-sama spoke of you. She foresaw our meeting in a dream."

He nodded. He knew about this Tomoyo's abilities.

"She also assures me that Kurogane-san will heal, though my training defies that prediction. Nonetheless, if anyone can survive slicing off their own arm, it _would _be him."

"Did you know him before he left?"

She smiled. "Oh, yes. Obsessed with slaying assassins, that one—it's a wonder he didn't get himself killed. And he's a horrible patient. Doesn't listen to direction. Gets up and walks around hours after a serious injury. When I saw him half an hour ago, I thought he'd finally run out of luck."

Syaoran tensed despite knowing what Tomoyo had dreamed. "Will he . . . Will he recover fully?"

Hinata paused, her dark eyes piercing. He fidgeted, looking down at his blood-spattered sleeves. He wondered how much of it was Kurogane's blood, and how much belonged to himself. They'd all lost plenty of blood in Ceres.

"No," Hinata finally said. "The arm's a loss. He's suffered severe blood loss, and he was in shock when he arrived here. We have a team of healers working on him now—all specialists. I was in the middle of making him some salve to put over his wound after they stitch it shut, but I expect it will be a few hours before he's out of danger."

"Oh." It felt like all the blood had rushed out of his head, leaving him dazed. He stared at the floor-mats, unseeing.

"That said, he's physically fit and, due to his size, can afford to lose more blood than a normal person. Barring unforeseen complications, he should make it out of surgery alive."

Fai nodded. "That's good news."

"He'll be very weak when he wakes up. He'll argue about it, but he'll need help moving around." Her eyes slid over to where Fai sat. "Forgive me if this question is inappropriate, but Lady Tomoyo explained your . . . condition to me, so I must ask: when was the last time you took blood from him?"

Fai tilted his head back, mumbling to himself as if counting the days. "It's been at least nine days. Possibly longer. And I don't . . ." He faltered. "I don't take enough to harm him."

Hinata nodded curtly, and Syaoran imagined Doctor Yamura writing on her clipboard. _So strange, _he thought, shaking his head. _A world of different values, customs, and beliefs, yet they are still so much the same. _

Someone tapped the other side of the paper wall. "Hinata-sensei?"

"Come in."

The wall slid open, and a girl of about fifteen stepped through, bowing as she entered. "I apologize for disturbing you. Tsukiyomi-sama has requested you prepare medicine for severe burns. A group of demon hunters just returned from the outer province and—"

Hinata raised one hand, halting the torrent of words. "It will be done. Go retrieve some gauze from storage."

Syaoran watched the girl hurry away, suddenly uneasy. _If there are going to be more patients, there will be less people watching over Kurogane, _he thought. "Will you need any help?" he asked. "I don't know anything about medicine, but I can—"

"Tell me something. Did the woman who shares my image ever care for more than one patient at a time?"

"Well, yes, I'm sure she did. But . . ."

"To become a healer of my level, you must learn to juggle priorities, patients, and responsibilities. If I were incapable of managing more than one patient at a time, I would never have pursued this career. You need not worry about Kurogane-san. He's being tended to." She stood, pulling her hair back into a bun. "I wish I could speak to you both at length, but for now, I have other duties to attend to. I'm sure Tomoyo has sent servants to prepare your rooms by now. You will wait there until someone gives you permission to see your companion."

_Permission? _he thought. "Isn't there any way we could see him now?"

"No." She paused, hand resting on the edge of the door, then sighed. "You cannot control the outcome of this. Don't let yourself grieve over something that hasn't happened yet." She slid the door open and stepped out, leaving him staring at the paper wall, heart aching.

Fai rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. Kuro-rin will be just fine."

He shrugged off the hand, knowing he was being cold and immature but not caring enough to apologize. Fai sighed, then changed the subject. "In any case, we should check around and see if our rooms are ready."

Syaoran drew his coat tight around his body, remembering the day Kurogane had bought it for him in Infinity. It felt like years since that day, though it had been less than six months. Their relationship had still been platonic then, more like a mentor and student than lovers. Perhaps if they hadn't stayed in Infinity so long, their relationship never would have developed beyond that. Perhaps he'd have fallen into a better world, one where he didn't need the crutch of Kurogane's affection to hold himself together. Perhaps his own affections would have withered like a plant left to die in a drought.

Regardless, he'd lose something precious if the ninja didn't wake up.

"Ah, excuse me," Fai said as a girl in plain robes passed by with a stack of sheets. "I was wondering if our rooms had been prepared yet."

The girl glanced up, eyes focusing on Fai's eye patch, then hastily looked away. "Down the hall, third room on the left," she whispered, pointing. Her colorless face reflected the muted light like the moon reflected the sun. _She's terrified__, _Syaoran realized.

If Fai noticed her fear, he showed no sign. "Thank you."

The girl skittered away, nearly dropping the stack of sheets as she raced around a corner. Syaoran trailed after Fai, following more out of habit than any desire to see the room that had been prepared for them. _That girl was actually afraid of him, _he thought, looking up at the vampire. _Afraid of what he was, or what he would do to her. _

The thought unsettled him. While he hadn't exactly bonded with Fai after Tokyo, he'd gotten used to the man's vampirism. It was strange to remember that not everyone knew, or that most who did know feared him. _How awful would that be? _he wondered, looking down at his feet. _To know that most people think you're a monster . . . to have them believe you're an abomination. Or a curse. _His mind flashed back to the images he'd seen in Ceres. Fai's whole country had labeled him a monster. Surviving in such a place would have been a constant torment. _I've been cruel to him, _Syaoran realized. _I've shut him out all these months, never taking into account how much he was hurting. In all the chaos, I've ignored his suffering._

They reached their room. Ashamed, Syaoran spoke. "I want to apologize."

Fai looked back, sliding the door open. "For what?"

Syaoran stared at his feet. "I . . . For a while, I stopped trusting you. I ignored you when I could and pushed you away when I couldn't. I looked at you with suspicion when I should have tried to see your perspective. I was wrong, and I've been treating you poorly because of it. I'm sorry."

Fai tilted his head to the side. "You were right to be suspicious. I lied. I betrayed all of you. I killed Sakura." His voice wavered a little at the last part.

Syaoran shook his head. "You're one of us. I allowed myself to forget that."

Fai looked at him for a long moment, then tousled his hair. "Don't worry about it, Syaoran-kun. It's not something you need to be sorry for."

"Even so . . ." he said, thinking back to the moment he'd stopped time. It seemed almost like a dream now. A nightmare. _Without that wish, Fei Wang Reed wouldn't have been able to set his plan in motion. __Fai might not have been born a twin. He might never have had to go to that valley. _

A sad smile crossed the wizard's face, but unlike his smiles in Infinity, it seemed genuine. "It's over, you know," he said quietly. "I lost my brother and my king. I lost my whole world."

_And it's my fault, _Syaoran thought, unable to say the words.

"But you know," Fai continued, tilting his head back. "I think it will be all right now. It's . . . It feels good, knowing I don't have to keep the secret anymore. That I don't have to lie to keep people from hating me. It's . . . freeing."

Syaoran swallowed thickly. "I still wish it hadn't cost so much."

"Ah, right." Fai's smile brightened, and Syaoran sensed the man had misunderstood. "I know I can't stop you from worrying, but Kuro-pyon is big and strong—he'll be just fine."

"Right," he said, dropping the subject. _You'll have to explain everything to them at some point, _whispered a small, dark voice in his mind. _Your wish. The costs. You can't keep it from them much longer. _

_ No one can keep a secret forever._


	89. Nighttime Visits

_Author's Notes:_

_So, I'm veering off a bit from the manga in these next few chapters. I have a couple reasons for this, the foremost being the required changes brought on by the pairing. But the other reason is that I have a slight issue with the timing presented in the books (Your Mileage May Vary on whether I'm right about this or not). In the manga, it seemed like the events in Nihon occurred very rapidly, despite the fact that, in reality, it would weeks for everyone to get back to full strength. My issue here is that in the manga, it seems like Kurogane wakes up within hours of leaving Ceres when in reality a wound that severe would probably involve him being bedridden for at least a few days, regardless of his strength. Also, when Syaoran gets to see Sakura's body sitting in the tree for the first time, which is something that_ should _have happened as soon as they dealt with the immediate danger to Kurogane's life,__ Kurogane appears to be well enough to walk around. To me, the timing in those scenes seems a little suspect, though again, YMMV. And I have a reputation for treating wounds in fiction as realistically as possible, meaning long recoveries and lingering aches and pains. So I'm changing things. The Nihon arc won't be nearly as long as the Infinity arc was in this fic, but it will be significantly longer than it appeared in the manga (which will be nice, because after this, we go into the final arc with FWR, and there won't be much room for romance until they defeat the Big Bad)._

_Also, I am leaving this Friday for Spring Break. I will be out of wifi range for about a week, which means we're going to miss a couple update cycles. But fear not: this break will be a short one, and I will be writing the whole time._

_Well, that turned out to be a long author's note. I hope I haven't bored any of you. But now that I've explained my motivation for altering canon material, let's move on to the chapter._

* * *

Chapter Eighty-Nine

The rest of the day whipped by so fast, Syaoran barely had time to worry.

Most of the afternoon he spent running errands for Tomoyo. On the first day, her requests for his assistance in tasks such as cleaning training equipment and folding clothes struck him as odd and, he admitted, a little unfair. Throughout the day, she sent servants to call on him to perform chores, just as he would have had he been living only with his traveling companions. Whenever he completed one task, he'd either receive another order, or one of the servants would coax him into accepting the luxuries the staff offered.

Once Kurogane and the other priority patients had been dealt with, several healers came in to dress his wounds—he still hadn't fully recovered from his last fight in Infinity, and King Ashura's attacks in Ceres had left him battered and cut up. After that, a group of servants directed him toward the hot springs where they scrubbed him down despite his protests that he could bathe all by himself. After that, a group of young women wearing kimonos requested his help in hanging paper lanterns from ropes for an upcoming ceremony. Halfway through, several men came out to the garden, calling everyone to the dining hall for dinner. In all the chaos, Syaoran had forgotten his hunger. The reminder made his stomach snarl, and though he wanted to check on Kurogane's status, he also didn't want to be chastised for not taking care of his body.

By the time he realized Tomoyo's subtle manipulations were meant to distract him from his worry, night had fallen and he felt too tired to say anything. As soon as the staff freed him for the evening, he went back to his quarters and collapsed on the soft mat on the floor, falling asleep within minutes.

He didn't dream, but when he woke, it was still dark. Quietly, he sat up, scanning the room. Fai lay face-down on his own mat, using his coat as a pillow. Syaoran wondered, briefly, if he'd bothered to wash the blood off since arriving here, then figured that if he hadn't, one of the servants would have dealt with it by now.

Syaoran considered going back to sleep, then sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to rest now that the palace was quiet. He'd grown used to sleeping with his companions close by. It felt wrong that two of his companions were absent, one nestled in a tree, the other in the infirmary. _I should see if Kurogane is awake, _Syaoran thought, slipping on fresh clothes and wiping the crust from his eyes.

He wandered down the dim corridors for a while, still unfamiliar with the layout of the castle. Periodically, he'd pass someone else in the hallway, usually a servant, and greet them with a nod. Those who noticed either nodded back or stared at him, eyes wide with surprise at being acknowledged.

Eventually, he found the infirmary. It was the only part of the castle still aglow with lantern light, and it teemed with healers. Syaoran stood at the end of the hall for a few minutes, searching for someone who didn't look too busy so he could ask them about Kurogane's condition. When several minutes passed without any such person passing by, he moved further down the hall, peering through cracks in the doors.

"You shouldn't be up this late," said a familiar voice. _Doctor Yamura, _he thought, then remembered that this person went by her first name, not her last.

"I'm sorry," he said, bowing. "I woke up and thought I might be able to—"

"I know why you came," she said, closing her eyes for a moment. "He's asleep. He won't wake up for hours, probably days. There's nothing you can do for him."

"Can't I see him?" he asked, feeling childish. "Just for a moment?"

Hinata opened her mouth as if to refuse, then let out a breath. "Very well. But only for a minute." She passed him, her steps quick, purposeful. He followed her to a small room at the end of the corridor, stepping inside when she gestured impatiently.

Kurogane lay unconscious on the floor, cushioned only by a thin mat and cylindrical pillow. The moonlight spilled in from the window, making his skin look ghostly white. Someone had folded his arm over his abdomen, apparently trying to give the same impression of peace as morticians tried to people's he dead during their funerals.

One sleeve laid flat on the ground, like a deflated balloon.

Syaoran knelt at the edge of the mat, feeling numb. He wanted to reach out and take Kurogane's hand, but Hinata stood watching from the doorway, her face impassive. _I can't do anything, _he realized. _I can't even touch him. _His breath caught, and he closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he hadn't come. The pale skin, the unnatural slumber—it reminded him too much of death.

His gaze slid over to Hinata, gauging her attention. Her face gave away nothing. He looked at the ninja's hand, resting just over his diaphragm. Surely, one touch wouldn't give away their relationship. He wouldn't even be holding the ninja's hand, really, just touching it. A friend could do that, couldn't they?

"He wouldn't want you to worry," Hinata said. When he didn't respond after a few seconds, she sighed. "You should probably go to your chambers now. He's not even supposed to have visitors yet—too many foreign spirits could infect the wound."

"I see," he said, drawing back and giving up his chance for that single touch. "You're right. I should go." He took a deep breath to compose himself, then walked out.

He made it back to his room before the first tears slipped out.

* * *

The next day was better. And worse.

A group of servants called him to breakfast shortly after sunrise. Syaoran stirred, tired after last night's expedition to the medical wing. He half-considered ignoring the call, then decided to get up anyway. He'd seen Kurogane's memories through the Other's eyes, so he knew this world better than many he'd fallen into during this journey, but he understood few of the subtleties. He didn't want to offend anyone by ignoring their offerings.

He stepped into the dining hall to find Fai picking through a selection of sushi and vegetables. Relieved not to be alone, he sat beside the magician. "Good morning."

"Morning," Fai said, grabbing a piece of lettuce with the thin end of his chopsticks. He managed to hold onto it for almost two seconds before it slipped from the utensils' grasp. Fai frowned. "I don't understand why anyone would think to use a pair of _sticks_ as a utensil," he said. "Honestly, who thought that was a good idea?"

Syaoran smiled faintly, picking up his own chopsticks as one of the servants set a platter of food in front of him. "It's not so hard." He picked up a pale pink piece of fish and popped it into his mouth.

Fai's lips twisted with a grimace. He changed the subject. "I talked to Tomoyo-chan this morning."

Syaoran tensed. "What did she say?"

"She told me Kuro-pin's condition has stabilized. He's out of danger."

"That's good."

The magician looked at him for a long moment. "You've already been to see him, haven't you?"

His spine went rigid. He turned his face toward the ground, guilty. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I went to see him."

Fai nodded, seeming unsurprised. "I thought as much. Are you going to finish those vegetables?"

He'd been planning on eating them, but the query reminded him of the wizard's disdain for raw fish. "No. You can have it." He nudged the assortment of vegetables onto Fai's plate, not commenting on his picky preferences.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Fai set his chopsticks down. "I know it's not my business, but were you . . . discreet about your visit?"

Syaoran felt his cheeks warm. "Fai-san, that's a bit personal . . ."

"I'm not asking because I'm uncomfortable with it." He hesitated. "I can accept what you two have. But Kuro-sama may not want to have his . . . preferences broadcast _here_, in his own world."

His blush deepened. "I know that. I wouldn't . . . I would never disgrace him like that in front of his own people."

"It's not . . ." Fai bit his lip, glancing around the dining hall. A few servants chatted two tables away, not paying them any heed, but their presence emphasized the sensitive nature of the conversation. Fai lowered his voice. "I just wanted to remind you to walk softly until we can better anticipate the consequences."

He bowed his head. _Well, this is the most awkward conversation I've had since Fai found out what we were doing, _he thought, nose twitching at the memory. "I understand," he said. "I haven't done anything that would indicate that sort of relationship. I've been careful."

Fai looked at his plate for a long moment, then nodded, evidently accepting his assurance.

They didn't speak for the rest of the meal.


	90. Rare Blossoms

Chapter Ninety

"The blooming of the _sakura _trees symbolizes the beginning of Spring," Tomoyo explained, hanging a paper lantern from one of the ropes. "But actually, they can bloom any time between January and May, depending on where you are and how mild the winter is. Here, they usually bloom in April."

Syaoran nodded, handing her the next lantern. As he did, his eyes strayed to the forked branches where they had left Sakura's body. Cherry blossoms bloomed all around her, making her look like an angel sleeping among the clouds. _Except her body has no soul, and she won't wake up until I can recover it, _he thought, grimacing.

"Syaoran-kun," Tomoyo said. His head snapped up, and she let out a tinkling laugh. "A bit distracted, I see."

"I'm sorry." He handed her another lantern.

"You've been through a great deal on your journey. I saw you sometimes, in my dreams. You and the other one."

He looked down. "I see."

"Of course, I was mostly checking on Kurogane—he can be so volatile. I worried his temper would get him into trouble." She smiled, reaching for another lantern. Syaoran handed her one, then grabbed a few more off the ground. "But perhaps my fears have been . . . not unjustified, but overstated. He cares a great deal about you."

Syaoran froze, ice rolling down his spine. _Don't be paranoid, _he scolded himself, feeling his cheeks warm. _She probably means "you" in a general sense. She wouldn't know about what you've been doing. Unless . . . _He tried to banish the fear from his face. Because she _could _know. She saw the future in dreams. She'd watched over them during their journey.

What if she had seen?

"You seem surprised," Tomoyo noted.

"I . . . um . . ."

Her smile softened. She laid one tiny hand on his cheek. "It's unconventional, to be sure, but love often is. And for Kurogane to care about someone so deeply . . . It's both a surprise and a pleasure."

"I . . . I'm not sure what to say." Under her hand, his cheeks flushed a deeper red.

"No one else knows. And if you two choose to keep it secret, it shall remain so." She lowered her hand, grabbing a lantern. "True love is a rare blossom. One does not scorn a unique flower if it has been cultivated in a garden instead of grown in the wild. One should not scorn something so rare and beautiful as love."

He thought about that for a moment. About the acceptance inherent in the metaphor. "Thank you."

Tomoyo simply smiled.

Syaoran glanced at the _sakura _tree, seeing the soulless body cradled in its branches and wondering how _his _Sakura would react when he told her everything.

* * *

Syaoran spent the rest of the day preparing the courtyard for the Spring festivities, knowing he would be spending more time at Kurogane's bedside than enjoying the party. While the ninja slept, however, he didn't mind the distraction. Without something to occupy his thoughts, he'd have probably wandered to the medical wing and waited there until Kurogane woke. At least this way, he could forget his troubles. Mostly.

Still, he visited the infirmary frequently, always waiting for permission before entering Kurogane's room. Apart from clean bedsheets and fresh bandages, time seemed to stagnate in that room. Always, he found the ninja lying face-up, one sleeve limp and empty beside him, skin unnaturally pale. After his first few visits, Hinata stopped supervising.

It gave him the opportunity he'd given up that first night—it let him rest his hand over the ninja's knuckles. To touch him for the first time since Ceres.

_His hand is so cold, _he thought, fingers curling around the ninja's palm. Kurogane didn't stir or squeeze his hand. Not that Syaoran had expected him to—that kind of thing happened in stories, not in real life. But he also hadn't expected the man's skin to feel so cold, or his muscles to feel so slack. It felt wrong, as if all the vitality had drained out of his body.

Syaoran's breathing hitched. He pulled back, reasserting control over himself. He would _not _cry over Kurogane's comatose body. Not now. Not when the healers spoke of his improvement. Not when the ninja would scold him over every unnecessary tear.

He sat there a while longer, the sky outside darkening from bright blue to navy. When he heard the door slide open behind him, he released the ninja's hand.

"Still here, I see," Fai said, managing a faint smile.

Syaoran shrugged, unsure how to respond. Fai sat next to him, adjusting his outfit—Tomoyo had called it a _furisode—_to make himself comfortable. Neither of them said anything, but Syaoran sensed that Fai was waiting for him to speak first. After a few minutes, Syaoran stood. "I should probably go see if there are any more decorations to hang up."

"Sit down," Fai said.

Syaoran sat, looking away. "Is there . . . something you wanted to say?" he asked after a minute of silence.

Fai's lips parted slightly, but he hesitated. "No," he said carefully, folding his hands over his lap. "I don't want you to feel like you need to leave just because I sat down. I'm not looking to be alone."

The words gave him pause. He looked at the bandages coiled around Kurogane's side and shoulder. After a moment, he let his fingertips trail across the gauze. It felt rougher than he'd expected. Not fluffy, but coarse. His hand lingered there.

"I can hear his heartbeat," Fai said. Syaoran glanced up and saw how the vampire's eye shifted between blue and gold, pupils changing between slitted and round. Instinctively, he edged closer to the unconscious ninja, placing himself between predator and prey.

Fai blinked rapidly, the gold flecks vanishing from his eyes. _Maybe he has to change forms to sharpen his hearing, _Syaoran thought, puzzling over the mystery for a moment. It wasn't something he'd thought about much—in Infinity, he'd avoided the magician, and during the chess matches, he'd been too preoccupied playing his part to study Fai's vampire nature.

"It's steady," Fai said. At Syaoran's blank look, he explained. "His heart rate, I mean. It sounds healthy. And his breathing patterns are almost back to normal. Soon, he won't be comatose, just asleep."

"You can hear all that?"

"Yes." He smiled. "Not that I need it to know he'll be up and about long before he should be."

Syaoran looked at Kurogane's face, noting how pale it still looked. Unconsciously, his hand moved upward to cup the ninja's face.

"You love him, don't you?"

Syaoran jumped, withdrawing his hand. His cheeks burned.

"In Infinity, you asked me whether there was a way to fall out of love. I can only take that to mean you thought you were already _in_ love."

His blush deepened. "It's . . ." He nearly said "complicated," but he'd read the same phrase in so many books that it seemed horribly clichéd. And, he decided after a moment, inaccurate. "Perhaps a better question would have been whether you can love more than one person at a time. And if so, what do you do about it?"

Fai waited a beat to respond. "Have you discussed this with him?"

"Sort of. He knows I love Sakura." _My Sakura, _he thought, sighing. "He's all right with the idea of me . . . being with her. But I don't know how she'll react." _I don't even know if I'll ever see her again. _

"Love is a strange thing, sometimes," Fai said. "But I'm sure it will all work out in the end."

_Well, great. At least one of us can still pull off optimism. _"Yeah. Maybe."

Silence fell. After a few minutes, Syaoran sighed. "He told me he loved me. Before we left Infinity. No one . . . No one's ever said that to me except my parents."

"But it made you happy. _He _makes you happy."

"Yes." Sorrow coiled around his windpipe, making it hard to breathe. "He makes me happy. Even with everything that's happening, even with all the pain and loneliness and chaos, he makes me happy."

"And you don't feel you deserve that happiness." It wasn't a question.

"No. I've . . . There are things I regret, both before and after my imprisonment. Things I wish I could change. But . . ." He thought about his wish to turn back time, to save his Sakura. "Once something's broken, it can't ever be fixed. Not truly. I think that's one of the most important things I've learned on this journey. Even so, when things _do_ break, it's possible to pick up the pieces and make something better out of them. It's possible to find love where you only expected indifference."

Fai absorbed that, nodding to himself. "Is that what it was like with you and him?"

"That was how it started. Sometimes I wonder if I could have started any other way. If he could have come to love me without those first few months of trepidation. But I think that, without those hardships, our relationship wouldn't have become strong enough to withstand the things we're facing now, or the things we might face in the future. We built something strong out of something that, by all logic, should have never been able to stand on its own."

Fai sat quietly for a few seconds, then rested a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to punish yourself for old regrets, you know. It's okay to be happy."

_You wouldn't say that if you knew what my regret stems from, _he thought, saying nothing. A moment later, the wall slid open, and Hinata Yamura peered inside. "Tsukiyomi-sama wishes for you to return to your room. She says she sent gifts for each of you."

_Gifts? _he thought, puzzled. _Is this Tomoyo-hime's way of kicking us out? _He considered objecting, then decided against it. If Hinata was anything like Infinity's Doctor Yamura, arguing would do him little good. He rose to his feet, bowed, then stepped out into the hallway, Fai close behind him. "What do you think that was about?" the magician asked when Hinata closed the door behind her.

"I don't know. But we can't refuse Tomoyo-hime's kindness in her own castle. We should go back." _And maybe once we find these "gifts," we can return._


	91. Red Silk and Gold Thread

Chapter Ninety-One

Syaoran gaped as he stepped through the door, suddenly wishing he'd stayed at Kurogane's bedside.

"Ah, you're here," said one of about a dozen servants. Though the others were all dressed in plain robes, this man wore a black silk robe with floral prints. "Excellent. It's time to find you some more appropriate clothing."

Self-conscious, Syaoran looked down at his current outfit. Tomoyo had provided him with simple robes after he'd arrived here, and he hadn't thought much about his clothes after that. _If Tomoyo's asking us wear new clothes now, there must be a reason. _He met the head servants' gaze, fidgeting. "What kind of clothing?"

The man grinned and waved him closer. Syaoran approached, peering at the chest of clothing in the middle of the room. "We have several options, all handpicked by Tsukiyomi-sama herself." He pulled out a black kimono with bold indigo swirls. "You'll try each of them on, and we'll see what alterations need to be made."

"If I may ask," he began, "what is this for?"

The man's smile brightened. "For the Spring Festival, of course. I was rather under the impression that you already knew."

"Well, yes, but . . . Don't we still have a few days before—"

"These things take time," the man said. "The measurements must be done in advance." He turned to Fai, handing him a white robe with sapphire accents. A flock of servants ushered the vampire out of the room, strangely solemn for the occasion. Fai, however, seemed content to follow along, even chatting with the servants as the door closed.

Syaoran looked up, realizing he was alone except for the man who'd been speaking. He edged back a little.

"You, little sparrow, are with me," he said. "You may call me Sora."

_Little sparrow? _Syaoran thought, watching Sora pull a white outfit from the chest. The sleeves hung down, much too long for his arms, but he recognized the style from previous worlds. "Isn't that women's clothing?" he asked without thinking. _And wasn't Fai wearing one of these earlier? _

His face warmed. His clone had once dressed like a woman in Shara. _Or was it Shura? _he wondered. He'd never been able to keep the two straight.

Sora smiled. "In most cases, yes. This is called a _furisode_. When men wear it, it's usually a sign that a warrior has taken them as their lover."

Syaoran coughed to disguise his squeal of panic. _Tomoyo told him! _He felt a jolt at the betrayal. Piffle's Tomoyo had been one of their greatest allies. After meeting this world's Tomoyo, Syaoran had assumed she, too, was a friend. _W__hy would she do this to me? _

Sora chuckled. "Don't look so startled. It's perfectly normal. My brother was once in the same position, you know. Anyway, she didn't tell me directly. Tsukiyomi-sama would never betray your wishes like that. I guessed." He grinned. "Clothes may not make the man, but they do help others identify who he believes himself to be. Besides, if you've netted yourself that ninja in the infirmary, you ought to be proud."

_Proud? _"I . . . I don't understand."

"Kurogane-sama is the best ninja in Nihon—and that's not exaggeration. He's slain hundreds of demons and assassins, and his name is known even in the outermost provinces. The Dragon of Suwa, they called him. Not to his face, you understand. His reputation tends to drive people away. So how did you do it?"

"Um . . . I . . ."

"Too personal?" Sora guessed, then smiled. If Syaoran was reading him correctly, Sora seemed perfectly comfortable with the idea of two men in a relationship. _How common is this? _he wondered. _Will there be other worlds that accept what we are?_

"It's a little personal. I . . . I'm not sure he wants any of this broadcast around the castle."

Sora's eyes widened a little in surprise. He put the _furisode _away, folding it up before selecting another garment. "Not this one, then. Here." He handed Syaoran a slippery garment that would hang just above his knees. "Put that on. You're supposed to wear it under your clothes." He combed through the other outfits as Syaoran hastily donned the garment.

"If you want to keep things discreet, dress simply. At the same time, don't wear anything too casual. Anyone who notices will think you're dressing well as a gesture of respect. Ah. This one." He held up a maroon kimono. Gold thread accented the rich fabric, contrasting with the deeper color. "He'll love it."

Given the ninja's tendency to ignore aesthetics and focus on function, Syaoran doubted that. The robe slid across his skin like cascading water, falling just below his ankles and hanging loosely around his arms. _If I have to run in this, I'll trip and land on my face. _

"Beautiful," Sora said, gathering up a gold ribbon and wrapping it around Syaoran's abdomen like a belt. "And a perfect fit. You're ready to go."

"Go?"

Sora smiled apologetically. "I might have misled you before. This one won't be for the festival, just for you and him."

He drew the kimono closer to his body. "I see."

"Don't look so panicked. Tsukiyomi-sama said he'd be awake by the time you got dressed."

His head snapped up. "He's awake?"

"Dream-seers," Sora said, as if that explained everything. "I believe your blond friend plans to speak with him after Tsukiyomi-sama, but it shouldn't take long."

"I have to go," he said, turning for the door. _I have to see him_.

"Wait! Don't you want to try on some of the accessories?" Sora called as he rushed down the hall. Syaoran ignored him, lifting up the bottom of his robe so he wouldn't trip over the fabric. He passed servants and nobles alike, drawing puzzled glances but never pausing to explain. He _had _to get to the infirmary. He had to see the ninja for himself.

He reached the medical wing, slowing a bit to avoid the swarming healers and assistants. When he saw Fai standing outside Kurogane's door, he stopped, breathing hard. "Is he awake?"

"Tomoyo-chan is with him," Fai said, nodding toward the door. Though he knew the vampire hadn't changed much after his transformation, he looked different. Worried creases lined his forehead, and he had his arms folded in front of his chest, sleeves hanging loose. With a start, Syaoran realized that the man looked _older_, despite his slowed aging.

"Did she say how long she'd be?" he asked, hands curling into fists as he struggled to control his impatience.

"Only a few minutes. I'm sure—" He stopped abruptly as Hinata Yamura's voice rang through the hallway.

"And what are you two doing, loitering out here?" She approached, her expression stern. Where Infinity's Doctor Yamura had sometimes seemed inexperienced, this woman was businesslike, even intimidating. Syaoran shrunk under her stare.

Fai, naturally, knew exactly what to say. "We're just here to check on Kuro-rin—Tomoyo-chan said we could come visit as soon as she got done speaking to him."

"Speaking to . . ." Hinata trailed off, seeming uncertain. "So I take that to mean he's awake now."

"That's right," Fai sang.

"I'll have to readjust the care schedule," she muttered. "Waking up early . . . Should have been out another three days, at the _least_, with those sedatives . . ." She paused, then looked up at them. "If Tsukiyomi-sama says it's all right, I won't disagree. However, keep in mind that we've been drizzling sedatives into his mouth for the better part of the last two days. If he's lucid at all, it'll be a miracle."

"Well, miracles have to happen sometimes," Fai said. "Otherwise, why would people believe in them?"

Hinata sighed. "Don't take too long. If he's awake, he'll be in plenty of pain."

Syaoran winced, then watched her walk away. A moment later, Kurogane's door slid open, and Tomoyo poked her head out to look at Fai "You can come in now. Just you," she added when Syaoran stepped forward. Repressing a groan, he stepped back. Fai smiled ruefully and stepped inside, leaving him standing alone in the hallway. _Well, this isn't how I imagined this going, _he thought, pinching the fabric of his sleeve between his fingers and sighing at the pointlessness of it. Kurogane wouldn't notice. Even if he did, he wouldn't care. Why waste a perfectly good outfit on someone who wouldn't even notice?

_It doesn't matter, _he thought. _Doctor Yamura said he wouldn't be lucid, anyway. I'll be lucky if I get in before he passes out again. _His chest tightened with a pang of longing. All he wanted was to see that Kurogane was awake and healthy. Yet everyone kept holding him back.

A few minutes passed before the door slid open again. Tomoyo stepped out, closing it behind her and squashing his hopes of gaining entry. She smiled at him as their eyes met. "It won't take much longer," she assured him, folding her hands in front of her body. She looked strangely pleased with herself, as if she'd accomplished something grand in the five minutes she'd spent with the ninja. Syaoran nodded, but said nothing.

At last, Fai stepped out. "He's all yours, Syaoran-kun."

"Thank you." He slipped past Fai, holding his breath as his hand folded around the door handle. He'd seen the damage already, but he didn't know whether it would seem better or worse now that the ninja had woken up.

_You'll have to find out either way, _he reminded himself. He pulled the door open.


	92. Awakening

Chapter Ninety-Two

Light filtered through the paper walls, making the far side of the room seem to glow. Swallowing, Syaoran slid the door shut behind him, sensing Kurogane's gaze on his skin. His heart fluttered. Head down, he walked to the edge of the mat and knelt at the ninja's side, silent.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurogane reach up to brush his remaining hand across Syaoran's jaw. "Hey."

The gentle touch had him blushing a deep crimson. "Good morning, Kurogane-san."

The ninja's hand stilled. Syaoran stiffened. He inhaled slowly, trying to keep control of himself. His voice trembled. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Kurogane said, shrugging with his good shoulder as if losing an arm had been an inconvenience, not a debilitating injury. "You?"

"I'm fine. Tomoyo-hime had her healers take care of my wounds after they . . ." He trailed off, unable to stop his eyes from straying to the bandages wrapped around the ninja's shoulder and abdomen. His lungs seized up, and he had to look away to maintain control.

"This is the first time they've let you see the damage, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "I saw it earlier when I came to visit. I . . . I guess I haven't gotten used to it yet."

On the floor, Kurogane nodded, staring at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for his hand. Syaoran let him take it, knowing there weren't any comforting words—or, at least, none that Kurogane would ask for or accept. Silence settled over the room, giving him time to rein in his sorrow and shock. Still, he kept looking at the wound, at the pristine bandages the healers had affixed to it. It seemed wrong that Kurogane's sacrifice could be concealed by such mundane supplies. If he hadn't watched the ninja shear off his own arm, the absence would have seemed unreal.

"It's okay, you know," Kurogane said. Syaoran tore his eyes away from the wound to meet the ninja's gaze. Kurogane squeezed his hand, then moved it so Syaoran's palm lay over his chest. "I didn't lose anything _too _important."

Syaoran nodded, trying to believe that. He pressed his hand against the ninja's skin so he could feel his heart beat. Knowing they hadn't lost everything made their current problems a bit easier to bear. "I thought . . . I really thought you were going to die back there," he whispered.

"Why? Because I cut off my arm?"

He shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but that wasn't what I meant. In Ceres, when the curse's magic closed around you, I thought you were both going to die. That I would fall into the next world with Sakura's body and no way to find her soul. I thought I was going to be alone again."

"Again?"

"Like I was before I arrived in Tokyo. Like I was before you and I. . . you know." His eyes flickered to the ninja's face, saw the understanding in his expression. "If you'd died back there, I'd have fallen back into that darkness. I'd have been alone."

"I love you."

His head snapped up. "I love you, too."

"And I don't plan on dying anytime soon, but if I do, you have to move on. Got it?"

"I . . ."

Kurogane grabbed his arm. "Listen. What I want more than anything else—more than being with you or killing that bastard who imprisoned you—is for you to be _happy_. And alive. So." He took a breath. Most of the color had drained from his face, but his eyes burned like fire. "So promise me that even if I die, you'll keep living—really living, not just existing."

Syaoran blinked in shock. "Kurogane-san . . ."

"I'm not kidding." With great effort, he sat up, bracing his remaining hand on the floor to steady himself. "Damn, that hurts."

"Maybe you should—" he began. Before he could finish his sentence, the ninja's lips crashed against his, hot and demanding.

"Promise me," Kurogane whispered. "Promise me you'll at least _try _to be happy if I die."

"Yes." He melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the ninja's neck. Desire burned in his chest, pulling him deeper into the moment. His hands traced Kurogane's neck, exploring the line separating his skin from the bandages.

After a moment, Kurogane leaned back, breathing hard. He sank into the mattress, his face paling. Syaoran followed, lying at his side, taking the man's hand in his own. "Will you promise _me _something?"

"That depends. What is it?"

"Promise me that if it ever comes down to my life or yours, you'll save yourself first."

Kurogane opened his mouth, then slumped where he lay. "There's no point in arguing, is there?"

He shook his head.

"All right then. If that's what you want."

"It is." Syaoran planted a kiss on the ninja's jaw, nuzzling his cheek with the tip of his nose. He let his hand trail up the ninja's arm, fingertips skimming over his bicep, then his upper arm, until they came to rest on his shoulder. All the while, Kurogane studied him, not saying a word.

"Does Tomoyo know?" he finally asked, resting his head on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. Syaoran tensed, fingers curling as he nodded. "Yeah, figured as much. She always knows." Kurogane looked at him again, pulling his arm away to run his hand over Syaoran's cheek. He closed his eyes, accepting the contact, finding comfort in it. _Even now, when I should be caring for him, he's the one who comforts me. _

"I didn't tell her. She already knew."

"Yeah. Figured that, too." Kurogane rolled toward him, his expression soft. "Will you stay?"

He froze. _Did I hear that right?_ "Stay?"

"Stay with me until I'm cleared to leave the infirmary. Will you?"

His heart fluttered. "I don't . . . Is that a good idea?"

Kurogane moved as if to shrug, then winced as the movement pulled at his wounds. "Tomoyo knows about us. The healers won't kick you out if I want you here. And . . ." He looked away, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "I'd like to have you here. With all these sedatives, I won't be alert enough to watch for assassins."

_He loves you, _whispered a tiny voice in his mind. _He needs you. _"Okay." He swallowed. "I'll stay. But . . . I can't live in this world forever. Sakura is still . . ."

"I know. We've still got that bastard with the bat sword to deal with. I got my wish, but I'm not about to stay here and let you fight him alone."

"But . . . your sword," he said, torn between telling him to stay and begging him to come. "You lost it in Ceres. How will you fight?"

"I'll take care of it." He pressed his lips to Syaoran's forehead. "This _is _Nihon. I'm pretty sure I can get my hands on a sword."

Syaoran nodded, trailing his fingertips across the ninja's chest. Kurogane's arm circled his shoulders, pulling him closer. _He's warm, _Syaoran thought, settling in and closing his eyes. The ninja stroked the back of his neck, his hand a slow, soothing pressure. Syaoran didn't know how long he laid there, but after a while, his mind drifted, his thoughts becoming scattered, dream-like. He drifted into sleep like a boat floating in calm seas.

* * *

Fai gave them two hours to have their reunion, then returned to the medical wing. He tried to tell himself that he just wanted to find out whether Kurogane was angry about getting punched in the face (honestly, Fai had been surprised it had gone over as well as it had), but a smaller part of him wanted to see the ninja again. A part, he thought, that he'd been denying far too long.

He passed Hinata in the corridor and nodded a greeting. The woman glanced at him in surprise, then inclined her head. "Good afternoon. Is there something you need?"

"Just checking on Kuro-pyon."

Her eyebrows flew up into her hair. "Kuro . . . pyon? He lets you call him that?"

"Well, he did try to cut me open the first few times, but I think we've come to an agreement." _And he looked so relieved when I went back to using his nicknames, _Fai thought wistfully. "Kuro-wan isn't so scary once you get to know him."

Hinata stared at him, running her thumb across the scroll in her hand. The gesture reminded him of Doctor Yamura's habit of glancing at her clipboard. "Yes, well . . . Syaoran-kun is still with him. You'll want to knock before you enter."

"All right." He walked past, humming to himself until he reached the correct door. He knocked, waited a beat for a response, then spoke. "It's me."

No one answered. After listening for any signs of movement, he slid the door open and slipped inside.

They slept beside each other, too deeply asleep to be disturbed by his knocking. Syaoran slept on his side, face pressed against Kurogane's chest, one hand lying across the man's abdomen. Kurogane slept just as soundly, head lolling to the right, his single arm loose around Syaoran's shoulders. Both looked peaceful.

Fai loomed in the corner of the room, breathing slowly, feeling as if something had cracked inside his heart. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had felt that pain for weeks now. That fissure in his heart. He'd banished it from his thoughts when he'd found out about their relationship. He'd endured it when he'd recognized the genuine affection between the two of them. But now, seeing Kurogane sleeping so peacefully, the crack opened wide, leaving him drenched in grief. _I could have had this, _he thought, mourning the missed opportunity. _If I had been less of a coward, if I had acted less coldly, if I had been a better man, I could have had this. _His breathing hitched, and he drew in another slow breath to regain control. _Kurogane could have loved me instead._

He looked down at his _furisode, _remembering the sad glimmer in Tomoyo's eyes when she'd delivered it to him their first day here. He had understood the significance of the garment, even if he'd held little hope for changing the way things were. He had waited too long. He had refused to appreciate the sacrifices Kurogane had made for him, and though he'd been forgiven, he had lost something important because of it. He had lost his own chance at love.

_Is this the sacrifice I have to make? _he wondered. _Is that love what I have to give up in recompense? __Is this the price for my betrayals?_

_ "You don't have to punish yourself for old regrets." _That was something Ashura had taught him, long before he'd gone on this journey. He'd repeated that same advice to Syaoran just a few hours ago. _Is that what I'm doing?_ he wondered_ Am I blaming myself for something that could never have been? For something I couldn't have planned for? Am I blaming myself for someone else's choice?_

On the floor, Syaoran shifted closer to the ninja. Kurogane didn't stir, as Fai might have expected from the habitually light sleeper. For him to let his guard down, even under the influence of sedatives. . . That required more than love. It required trust.

_That's what I've been missing, _Fai realized. _I never allowed myself to trust them. I was always waiting for the day I would betray them, so I never freed myself enough to believe they'd forgive me. That's why I couldn't love or be loved. _He absorbed that, the thought somehow putting him at ease. He no longer had to betray them. He was free.

_Let it go, _whispered a tiny voice in his mind. _They're happy together. _

"Time to move on," he whispered to himself. His lips pulled up into a smile. He slid the door open, the crack in his heart sealing up. He suspected it would still ache from time to time, but he could endure it. As long as the others were happy, he could endure anything.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_So, we get the conclusion of this little mini-arc here. I hope Fai's thoughts don't come out of the blue (I did try to hint at his love for Kurogane in previous chapters). There are events he mentions in this chapter that occurred in Nihon but weren't mentioned in previous scenes, such as Tomoyo giving Fai a _furisode, _but I think that any good story has a lot of background content and detail that exists only in the author's mind, not on the page. This is one of those instances where you see the end result, but not a lot of the lead-up. Given that Fai is not part of the pairing, I feel that going back and writing his interactions with Tomoyo would have slowed the story down. This is the same reasoning I give for never showing Fai and Sakura actually shopping in Infinity—it's more important that you see the result of those trips (by which I mean alone-time between Kurogane and Syaoran), but the trips themselves are not important._

_Another note on this chapter: you'll notice that I'm using Doctor Yamura/Hinata quite a bit, given her status an OC. This wasn't really intentional, as I am generally of the belief that an OC should stay in the background as much as possible (though there are always exceptions for those who write OCs well). But I like Hinata. She can interact with the canon characters in ways they can't/won't with each other, and having her exist to represent the healers, rather than just leaving them as unnamed OCs, makes the scenes feel more real to me. YMMV on whether she's an effective character or not, but either way, I'd like to hear what you guys think of her (and anything else in this chapter or in the story in general). Anyway, thanks, as always, to those who read and review. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter._


	93. Pride and Shame

Chapter Ninety-Three

The light was all wrong.

Syaoran stirred, sensing the unfamiliar quality of the sunlight on his face. He usually woke before the light from his window moved past his ankles. _I must have overslept, _he thought, eyelids fluttering. _I hope we don't have a chess match tonight. My sleep cycle is unstable as it is. _

As his eyes adjusted to the unusual light, his mind cleared. Paper walls framed the room, interrupted by wooden support struts. The sunlight seeping through the walls seemed too bright for so dreary a place as Infinity. _That's right. We moved on. We're in Nihon now. _He started to sit up, still drowsy, then froze as he felt a warm pressure on his back.

"You're awake," Kurogane said, fingers trailing down Syaoran's spine.

Syaoran drew back, panicking. "I fell asleep?"

"Yeah."

He sat up, realizing with considerable embarrassment that, not only had he drifted off, he'd quite literally slept in the man's embrace. "I'm sorry," he squeaked, standing up. He studied his clothes, making sure everything was still in place. The maroon kimono Sora had given him looked rumpled, and his hair stuck up in asymmetrical spikes. "How long was I asleep? Did anyone see us?"

"Kid, relax."

"I feel like I've been asleep for hours," he said, trying to flatten the wrinkled fabric of his kimono. _And I look like it, too. _"What are people going to think when I walk out of here looking like _this_?"

"There's no point in worrying about that now."

"But what if they start to wonder about us?" he whispered. "What if they piece it together? Too many people here know already."

Kurogane's hand circled around his wrist. "Sit down," he said.

Syaoran looked at him, then looked away, blushing. The ninja tugged on his wrist, pulling him down. He knelt at the man's side, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You ought to be, acting like you're ashamed of this."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Your face is as red as your outfit."

He flinched. "I . . . I'm not ashamed, it's just . . ."

"Just what? A few days ago, you said you were in love with me. Yet you fall asleep in my bed _once_, and you act like you've done something wrong. If that's not shame, what the hell is it?"

"I . . ." He hated the tremor in his voice. He hated not having an answer. He drew in a deep breath, fighting for control. Kurogane's hand tightened around his wrist. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, feeling the weight of Kurogane's gaze on his face. His apology hung in the air, met by silence.

"You know," Kurogane eventually said, "if you're going to be ashamed, you might as well do something worth being ashamed of."

Syaoran looked up, uncertain. "What?"

With some effort, the ninja sat up, releasing Syaoran's wrist so he could brace his hand on the ground for leverage. Even then, he was still breathing hard when he reached a sitting position. "Lie down," he commanded.

"Why?"

Kurogane pressed his arm against Syaoran's collarbone, pushing him down onto the mattress and pinning him there. "Because," he growled, "I want you to understand something."

_And this is going to help? _He leaned back, trying to find some hint of an answer in the ninja's eyes. All he could see was anger.

"I like the outfit," Kurogane said, his voice frigid as he tugged on the maroon kimono. "I'd like it better if it wasn't in the way."

Hands shaking, Syaoran untied the knots holding the front of the kimono together and tossed the garment aside. Then he pulled away the sheer cloth Sora had given him to wear under it, leaving his torso bare. An instant later, Kurogane's tongue traced his lower lip, seeking entrance. He opened his mouth, breath coming faster, heart pounding harder. The ninja's hand closed around his upper arm. "Kurogane-san . . ."

"Quiet." The man dragged his nails down Syaoran's ribs, leaving scratches.

Startled, Syaoran braced his hand against the ninja's chest. "Wait."

"Are you so ashamed of this that you're afraid to fall asleep in my bed when we haven't even _done _anything yet?" After a beat of silence, his grip tightened. "Is that it?"

"I don't . . . I don't understand. Why are we arguing?"

Kurogane sat up, resting his hand on his knee. "I don't care who finds out about us. I'm not ashamed of this. But if you _are _ashamed of it, you ought to say something."

"What do you _want_ from me?" When he received no answer, he went on, frustration building in his voice. "What do you _want_? An explanation? A confession? An excuse? Fine, then! The last time I fell in love, I lost _e__verything_. My freedom. My chance at happiness. My idealism. My dreams. I lost _her_."

"And you found her again in Tokyo. If you loved her so much, why not make things right back then?"

The words hit him like a fist. He exhaled sharply, wrapping his arms around his chest. "Make things right?" he repeated, his voice flat, empty. He felt Kurogane's eyes on his face.

"I don't see what's so damn difficult about it."

His eyes stung with tears. "_She _wasn't the one I fell in love with."

He heard the pause in Kurogane's breathing, felt the shock that ran through the man's body as if it was his own. The irritation drained from the ninja's voice. "What?"

"In Tokyo, you all found out that the Syaoran you knew was a copy of me." He lifted his eyes, saw the dawning realization on Kurogane's face. "Is it so hard to believe the same thing happened to Sakura?"

Kurogane said nothing. He didn't need to. His face said it all.

"It was my fault, you know." Syaoran turned away, too ashamed to meet the other man's eyes. "Fei Wang Reed manipulated the events that led up to it, but I'm the one who ruined everything. He'd placed a curse on her—a lethal curse that would activate years later. I combed the world looking for a way to reverse it, or slow it down. I would have walked the earth for a thousand years to save her, if that's what it would have taken." He laughed bitterly. "Interesting how that led me here. But . . . I could never find a counter-spell. When the time came and her curse activated, her mother stopped time in that world. I had no solution, no chance to save her. I'd vowed to protect her and I'd failed. And so I did the only thing I could think to do: I made a wish. And it backfired."

His hands curled into fists. He took a deep breath, flinching when Kurogane laid a hand on his shoulder. "Enough. You don't have to say anything else."

"I was supposed to protect her."

"You couldn't have known it would turn out like it did."

"I _loved_ her."

"That's no reason to blame yourself for what that bastard did to her!"

"What about the things he did to _you_? Or to Fai? To your families, to the people you loved? My wish allowed Fei Wang Reed to do all that, and you think I shouldn't _blame myself_?"

Kurogane's eyes flickered with pain. "What's done is done. You can't fix what happened in the past, so stop worrying about it."

"I can't."

"Then . . . Damn it. Look at me." He grabbed his chin and tilted his face up so their eyes met. "Don't cry."

"I'm not." But his voice trembled.

"Don't cry." Kurogane brushed his thumb over his cheek, wiping away the traitorous moisture that had gathered there. His hand lingered, resting tenderly across Syaoran's cheekbone. "Don't cry. You don't have to carry that weight anymore. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He shook his head. Of _course _he was afraid. Facing Fei Wang meant putting everything he loved at risk. It meant accepting the chance of failure. Of death. Of imprisonment. And worse than all of that, it meant watching the people he cared about risk all the same things. "What if we lose?" he whispered.

"We won't lose."

"But what if we do?"

"Then the bad guy wins. But that won't happen. I won't _let _it happen." Kurogane's arm encircled his shoulders. "So stop worrying."

He shivered, closing his eyes and pressing his face against the ninja's chest. Kurogane stroked his back, murmuring reassurances. They stayed like that a few minutes more, until someone knocked on the door. "It's time for lunch."

Syaoran stiffened, sliding out of Kurogane's embrace in alarm. "Hold on a second," Syaoran called, snatching his kimono off the ground.

"No time to waste," the voice said, a hint of annoyance buried under her cheerful tone. "I do have other patients."

He punched his arms through the under-kimono, heart racing. _She's going to see, _he thought. _And then she'll know. _

"Hey." Kurogane nudged his elbow. "Relax. It doesn't matter if they find out about us."

He paused, half the garment dangling from his arm. _Doesn't matter? _he thought, raising his head. His mind flashed back to the beginning of their argument. _"If that's not shame, what the hell is it?" _

"I'm coming in," the healer announced. On impulse, Syaoran discarded the under-kimono and wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck, standing close enough to feel the man's breath on his face. He had an instant to watch the shock light up in the man's eyes before the wall slid open. "We've got soup . . ."

Syaoran smiled, arms falling to his side. The healer, a girl barely old enough to be _in _medical school in most worlds, gaped at them for a moment, her cheeks glowing a soft red. "Sorry about that," Syaoran said, feigning embarrassment. "We were a little occupied."

"I, um . . . Uh . . . I'll just come back later." She stepped backward into the hallway, sliding the door shut.

"What the hell was that?" Kurogane demanded.

Syaoran shrank back. "You got mad because you thought I was ashamed of what we're doing. I wanted to show you that I wasn't." He dared to raise his head, then froze. "You're angry."

Kurogane flexed his jaw, fingers curling and uncurling. "Angry?" he said. Syaoran would have flinched at his tone if not for the almost imperceptible smile playing at the edge of his lips. "Kid, when I can walk without falling over, I'm going to _kill _you."

Syaoran's lips twitched into a smile. He planted a quick kiss on the side of the ninja's jaw. "I missed you."

The smirk softened around the edges. Kurogane pinched a lock of Syaoran's hair between his thumb and forefinger. "I missed you, too. And . . . I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. Been too long since I've had a decent argument, I guess. I kind of miss it."

He smiled wider, crouching down to gather up his clothes. "I should probably get back to Fai-san before he starts to worry. Will you be all right here?"

The man chuckled. "You suggesting I won't be?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Hey guys! Just letting you know I'm out of pre-written chapters (again), so I'll be taking a break from this fic until the end of the month. That should be the last break I'll need for this fic, since school will be finishing up shortly after that, so thank you all for your patience!_


	94. Dreaming in a Sea of Shadows

Chapter Ninety-Four

Syaoran almost collided with Fai as he turned the corner leading to their room. The magician darted out of the way and smiled in greeting before Syaoran could open his mouth to apologize. "How did it go?"

Syaoran hesitated, face heating up. "F-fine." His blush deepened. _He thinks we did something. _"We, uh . . . I sort of fell asleep, so . . ."

Fai held up a hand, his grin turning catlike. "Are you planning on sharing _details?_" His eyebrows waggled.

"No! No, I mean . . . It wasn't . . . We didn't do anything worth talking about." He pressed a hands to his cheeks, grimacing at the heat surging just beneath his skin. To his utter mortification, Fai snickered.

"Just kidding." The magician ruffled his hair. He seemed unusually cheerful, particularly considering how he'd felt about the relationship just a few weeks ago. _It seems like such a long time, _Syaoran thought. _So much has changed since then. _

"Did I miss anything?" he asked, feeling a little stab of guilt for falling asleep in the middle of the day.

"Nothing critical. One of the servants taught me a bit about _ikebana_. Flower arranging," Fai clarified at Syaoran's confused look. "It's considered a feminine art, but I could teach you a bit about it if you're interested."

"That's okay. I think I'll stick to hanging lanterns." He glanced around. "Is there anything I can help with for the Spring Festival?"

"I believe Tomoyo-chan sent some servants to start preparing food for any noblemen arriving early."

Syaoran nodded and started toward the kitchen area. As he turned, Fai's fingers wrapped around his arm, holding him in place. He glanced back in time to see Fai's expression sober.

"Yuuko-san called while you were gone. She asked me to pass a message along to you."

"What's the message?" he asked, wary.

"She said that the future could still be changed, and that our choices determine the path we walk. If you make a choice contrary to what is expected, it's possible to defy destiny."

A chill shot down his back. "I see."

"And also . . . She said there would be someone waiting for you in the dream world next time you fell asleep. She said you would have to search for that person if you wanted to find them."

_The dream world? _He cocked his head to the side. He hadn't thought about that world much, although he'd had reason enough given the fact that Sakura's soul had split off from her body and possibly ended up there. Unlike Princess Tomoyo, he had no ability to control his dreams. _But who am I supposed to be looking for? Sakura? _"Did she say anything else?"

Fai shook his head. "Only that saying anything more could change the future for the worse. This is something only you can accomplish."

"I see." _If I'm the only one who can do it, then that must mean I have a unique connection to the person I'm supposed to be looking for. _He frowned. It _could _be Sakura—either one of them. The Sakura he'd known before he'd made his wish in Clow would be more likely to seek him out specifically than the Sakura he'd met in Infinity. Yet . . . _There were others who loved my Sakura as deeply as I did. Our connection wouldn't be unique. _Once he discarded the possibility, the answer struck him like a hammer hitting a bell. _Watanuki!_

"You look like you've just grasped something important," Fai remarked.

Syaoran jumped, startled to realize that the magician hadn't walked away while he'd been brooding. He nodded. "I think I know who's looking for me." He started walking toward the dormitory, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Thank you."

Fai's eye widened. "For what?"

"For taking care of things while I've been . . . occupied. I know I haven't been as focused on Sakura as I should be."

A sad smile crossed the wizard's face. "Don't worry about it, Syaoran-kun. Love can distract even the best of us."

Something in Fai's tone had Syaoran's eyebrows furrowing in worry. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

He hesitated, not wanting to bring up the obvious response, but not wanting to ignore the seed of worry sprouting in his stomach. After a few moments, he decided to get to the point. "About what happened in Ceres . . . If you need someone to talk to, I'm always here to listen." He hesitated. "You tried to get me to talk about my problems a few times, back in Infinity. I can't help but think that things might have turned out differently if I'd told you what was bothering me." _Not better, _he thought. _But not the same. _

Fai tilted his head to the side, seeming puzzled. After a moment, he sighed. "Going back to Ceres, facing the demons I had left behind . . . I won't deny that it cost me. That it cost all of us. I was at my very lowest. I became a coward, a traitor. And yet . . ." He paused, seeming to weigh his words with care. "I think it's time to move on. I can no longer dwell on people and places I've lost. I have to move forward."

_Move forward, _Syaoran thought, mind flashing to his Sakura. For so long, she had been his reason for living, yet they hadn't seen each other since Reed's curse had manifested. _Have I been holding on to something I should have let go of years ago? _he wondered, then immediately shook off the thought. This was different—Fai's brother had been dead, and his king insane, but both Sakuras were, in some respect, still alive and capable of recovery. He wouldn't—_couldn't—_give up on them.

"I'm going to see if I can meet that person Yuuko-san spoke of," he said, turning toward his room.

Fai smiled. "I'll make sure no one disturbs you."

"Thanks." He hurried down the hall until he reached the room Tomoyo had assigned to him. Once inside, he laid down, staring at the wall for a moment before rolling over and closing his eyes.

Sleep took him faster than he'd have expected, given that he'd spent several hours asleep in Kurogane's arms today. Then again, he'd been under so much stress lately that he hadn't been sleeping well.

A vast darkness spread out around him as his mind surfaced in the dream world. This world had no floor—no up or down, no ground or sky—and no light except that which emanated faintly from his own body, making him visible in the darkness. Puzzled by the anomaly, he glanced down at his body and found himself wearing a plain white robe, far different from the maroon kimono he'd been wearing when he'd fallen asleep.

_Focus, _he reminded himself. _You're supposed to be looking for Watanuki. _He glanced around, body rotating slowly in the microgravity. Without any objects to judge his position, he wasn't sure how far he turned—it could have been a full rotation or he might not have turned at all. When a glowing figure entered his field of vision, he willed his body to stop moving and focused on the face of his counterpart.

"Syaoran-kun . . ." Watanuki said, his voice uncertain. At Syaoran's nod, he continued. "We're . . . in a dream?"

"Yes." He glided forward, his feet swinging as if to walk. The air felt strange to his skin—liquid like water, but not nearly as heavy. It felt as if he was gliding through a sea of mist. _As if we're both _made _of mist, _he thought, his mind automatically jumping to what sciences could lie behind the sensation.

Watanuki smiled, looking almost pained. "I wonder if we're meeting to say our final goodbyes." His eyes softened even as alarm bells rang inside Syaoran's head. "Though our previous meetings have been so fleeting—"

"Don't." Syaoran reached forward, his hand closing around Watanuki's arm like a vise. _Final goodbyes. There's only one thing that could mean. _"Don't vanish."

Puzzlement flickered across Watanuki's features. "You said that before, didn't you? And . . . Yuuko said that you paid a price to help save me when I was wounded. Why would you do that? What's the connection between us?"

He hesitated. "Our connection . . . I'm not sure I can tell you right now. It could interfere with the future I'm moving toward now. If I tell you about it, your choices could change, resulting in a different future." _One much darker than the future Sakura saw in Infinity, _he thought.

"Sakura-chan said almost the exact same thing."

His head snapped up. "You've met Sakura? Here?" He glanced around, heart jumping at the thought of seeing her again.

"In another dream. She wanted to change the future she'd dreamed about, but she couldn't tell any of you about it. But she said she wasn't sacrificing herself. She just wants to make sure everyone lives through this."

His eyes widened. "I . . . I see."

"Sakura-chan said she was trying to change the future, but she was shaken by how she'd hurt you. She said altering the natural flow of things would be . . . difficult." Watanuki glanced up, suddenly sheepish. "I don't want her to get in trouble for this. I know how easy it is to take that personally—to know she withheld information from you to protect you. But . . ."

"But she's not the type of person to put herself ahead by hurting others," Syaoran finished, understanding. "I know that. When I see her again, all I want from her is the truth, and I'll be fine."

Watanuki blinked. "I said almost exactly the same thing when I spoke to her. How did you . . ."

He smiled. "It's because we're more similar to each other than you know." He felt a sudden tug, as if a string had wrapped around his heart and been pulled taut. _The dream must be ending. _

Light poured out of the blackness, swallowing up his feet. He looked up one last time to see the startled look on Watanuki's face, then smiled. "Take care of Sakura until we can catch up to her," he called, falling backward into the light.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Regarding the price Syaoran paid for Watanuki—I'm in the process of rereading the end of the series, but I'm actually not sure what price Syaoran paid, as I have not read XXXHolic. So the details in this chapter are a bit scarce regarding their encounter in the dream world. For clarity's sake, it's essentially the same scene as it was in the manga, with some slight alterations of dialogue and the addition of narrative details for flow. If I find out more about this topic on a re-read, I may revise this chapter to reflect that, but mostly, I'm focusing on writing right now, so the re-read has to wait (you wouldn't think reading manga would be that time consuming, but when you're studying fine details, analyzing character motivations, and untwisting complex plot turns, you spend a lot of time getting to know every word/page)._

_Also, I didn't get quite as much done during my break as I wanted to, but I have a good excuse this time. My laptop's backlight burnt out shortly after I took my break, and for a few days, I wasn't able to write anything at all. Then I had to wait a few more days to get my files taken from my broken laptop and put them onto my new laptop, which means this chapter didn't even get finished until about two weeks after the last update. So here's what I'm going to do: instead of updating every three days, as has been my previous standard, I now plan to update weekly, on Fridays, until the end of the school year. After that, I anticipate having more time to write and will most likely resume my more strenuous update schedule. It will be a bit of a slow month, for which I apologize, but the second half of senior year gets quite hectic with prom, graduation, and such. Thank you all for sticking with me, and I hope this setback does not upset any of you too much._

_On a much happier note, I now have a driver's license and a new laptop._


	95. Not a Bribe

Chapter Ninety-Five

"_More _sedatives?"

Hinata Yamura eyed her patient wearily, wishing he'd stayed unconscious. "You lost a significant amount of blood when you chopped off your arm," she reminded him, tapping the edge of her scroll for emphasis. "You shouldn't even be walking yet."

Kurogane scowled at her, his hand curling into a fist as he paced the length of the room. A sheen of sweat made his skin glisten, a product of the unnecessary—and _stupid—_expenditure of energy. But she didn't try to stop him. She'd learned from previous visits that Kurogane would be more inclined to listen to reason if she didn't directly disagree with him.

"I don't need any sedatives," Kurogane grumbled, sitting down at the edge of his mattress. He reminded her of a sulking child, and a smile curved up her lips despite herself. "What the hell are you smiling about?" he demanded, scowling.

Hinata schooled her face into an impassive mask. "You could take the sedatives willingly, or I could slip them into your food. Either way, you'll take them."

The ninja moved as if to cross his arms, then hissed in frustration when he ended up holding his remaining arm awkwardly in front of his chest. Grimacing, he lowered it. "I'm not taking any damn sedatives. And if you try putting them in my food, I won't eat."

_Stubborn fool, _she thought, more with resignation than annoyance. She tried a different tactic. "Do I have to bring your vampire friend in here and have him punch you again?"

Kurogane's hackles rose. "That was a lucky shot! I'd been unconscious for _days_."

Hinata felt her eyes narrow. "You won't sleep well without the sedatives. Never mind the pain—the way you act, you won't be able to sit still long enough to sleep. _Or,_" she continued ruthlessly before he could argue, "you'll sleep sitting up, fall over, and land on your wounds."

The ninja's face actually paled a little at that. "Would not."

"You would. I suggest you take the medicine."

"Hey, why do you look so familiar?" he asked suddenly, as if it had just occurred to him that he might know her.

She sighed. "I have been your healer since you came into Shirasagi Castle—I've treated you for assassins' poisons, blood loss, and _sleep deprivation_. I should hope I'm familiar to you."_  
_

"That's not it." The ninja frowned, the annoyance fading from his face as he scrutinized her. "You've been my healer that long?"

_Given the way you refuse treatment, it's little wonder you can't remember, _she thought but did not say. "Yes. I have. And to address your previous question, your companions told me you all had met an alternate version of myself in one of the worlds you recently traveled to."

Kurogane's eyebrows pulled together, his expression growing even more intent. "You . . . That doctor in Infinity. She was another version of you."

She nodded.

"Well damn, she was a freaking pushover. No wonder I didn't see the resemblance."

Hinata sighed. "I'm going to go get the sedatives. When I come back, I'm going to give them to you and you are going to _take them_. Is that understood?"

"I don't want—"

"Is it understood?" she demanded. Surprise flickered across the man's face, followed by irritation.

"Do whatever you want. I still won't take them."

_Let it go, _she thought, spinning on her heel and walking out. She strode through the corridor, frustration rolling off her shoulders like water off river rocks. Other healers quailed as she stalked past, and one of her apprentices actually turned and hurried in the opposite direction when he saw her face. _Control, _she thought. _You're a healer. You have to stay in control of yourself. _

At the end of the hallway, the brown-haired boy who had arrived with Kurogane appeared, peering down the corridor before starting toward the ninja's room. _That could work, _Hinata thought, her anger derailed as an idea struck her. She waved the boy over and saw the look of alarm flash across his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked when they met.

"Kurogane-sama won't take his medicine. You're going to help me make sure he does."

Shock danced in the boy's eyes. "I don't think I'm qualified to—"

"It doesn't matter. I've known the man since he walked into this castle—he'll do anything if the people he cares about ask for it." _And many things they won't ask for, _she thought. She'd heard quite a bit about the circumstances of Kurogane's injuries, and though she hadn't understood all of it, she knew he'd sacrificed his arm—and his _sword_—to save his companions.

The boy followed her to the room where she prepared medicine for her patients. She'd already set up most of the herbs she'd been planning to give the ninja, so all she had to do was gather them in a bowl and mix them together with a wooden stirring stick. "He'll be more willing to take these if he knows he has people waiting for him to recover." She studied the boy for a moment, then nodded to herself. "You'll do."

"Okay, but . . . What am I supposed to say?"

"It doesn't matter." She stepped out into the hall and walked briskly back to the room where Kurogane slept. "What's important is that he ingests everything in this bowl. I'm busy with other patients, so I don't have all day to argue with him. These will knock him out for a few hours so he can get some real rest." She pulled the sliding door open and placed the bowl at the ninja's side. "Eat this," she ordered.

"I'm not taking a sedative!"

"Yes, you are." Without another word, she walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind her. _Honestly, _she thought. _Some people just can't be reasoned with._

* * *

Syaoran hovered in the doorway for several seconds before taking a seat next to Kurogane. "Yamura-san said you weren't taking your medicine."

Kurogane made a sound of disgust. "She wants me to stay in bed and sleep. Like I even could, with everything that's happened lately. She's more irritating than the witch."

Syaoran raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn't thought _anyone _could annoy Kurogane quite like Yuuko did.

"You really should take your medicine. I think it would help." He dared to raise his head, then repressed a wince at the dangerous glint in Kurogane's eye.

"I don't want it."

Syaoran glanced at the bowl Hinata had left in the room, then back at the ninja's face. "Is there anything I could do to change your mind?" he asked, stepping forward.

"No."

"Nothing at all?" He raised his hand to run his fingers across Kurogane's chest. He felt the man's sudden intake of breath, felt the stillness that followed. He let his fingertips move steadily downward, tracing the ninja's plated abdomen. The back of his neck burned as his fingertips paused just above Kurogane's pants. Embarrassed by the lack of response, he shied away. "I mean . . . Not that this would be a _bribe_, or anything, I just thought . . ."

Kurogane's hand closed over his mouth, sealing off the rush of words. His face turned to stone, leaving his red eyes as cold and hard as rubies. "Not a bribe?" He leaned closer. "Who the hell do you think you're kidding here?"

He tried to speak through the hand covering his mouth. His words came out as an unintelligible mumble. Abruptly, Kurogane lurched forward, hand wrapping around Syaoran's throat and applying just enough pressure to cause discomfort. Their eyes met and held for several seconds before Syaoran looked away. "I was just offering. This isn't . . . We're not exchanging _favors, _you know."

A strange mixture of surprise and guilt flickered across the ninja's face, followed, inexplicably, by embarrassment. His fingers unfurled, hand dropping to his side. "I know that."

"Then . . . Do you want to?"

"I . . . can't."

Syaoran cocked his head to the side, puzzled. "Because of your arm?" _That doesn't make any sense. _

"No." Kurogane sat back, not meeting his eyes. "It's not that. It's just that I lost of lot of blood, so I can't . . . you know . . . I can't _do _anything like that until I get better. Might take a few more days."

Syaoran was about to ask for clarification when insight struck. _Oh, _he thought, his own cheeks lighting up. _Of course. _"I didn't think about that."

Kurogane shrugged, staring at the corner of his mattress. As Syaoran studied him, he realized how pale the ninja still was, despite his rapid recovery. Even blushing, his skin looked sallow, bloodless.

Syaoran shifted closer to the ninja, leaning into his side. "Okay. We don't have to do that. What else do you like?"

"Sword practice," Kurogane answered after a moment. Before Syaoran could suggest that such a strenuous activity might be out of the man's reach, Kurogane continued. "I wouldn't mind a bath. The healers are too busy to bathe their patients daily, and when they do, the water is cold enough to freeze Hell."

Syaoran nodded, relieved to have something to do. "Do you think they'll let me take you to the hot springs? The water will be much warmer there."

"Maybe. I don't know. Go ask."

"Okay. But only if you promise to take your medicine afterward," he added, remembering the healer's orders.

Kurogane groaned. "Fine. Jeez."

Syaoran smiled and planted a kiss on the man's cheek. "I'll go make sure it's okay," he said, hurrying out of the room.


	96. A Tender Moment

Chapter Ninety-Six

The kid poked his head through the door, smiling at the expectant look on Kurogane's face. "Hinata-san agreed to let me take you to the hot springs."

"Thank the gods," Kurogane muttered, sitting up. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, forcing him to brace his hand against the ground to keep from slumping back onto the mattress. He hadn't been lying when he'd said he wasn't up for much, and although his desire for a bath outweighed his worry about passing out, he couldn't deny the toll even simple actions took on his body. "Help me up, would you?"

The kid hurried over, his wiry frame sliding under Kurogane's arm and supporting a good portion of his weight. As the dizziness passed, Kurogane took a moment to think about how off-balance he felt with only one arm. His body wanted to tip to the side, and when he walked, he tottered, on the edge of losing his balance.

He knew one thing for certain—it would be a nightmare trying to fight like this.

"Are you all right?" the boy asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, fine. Let's go." He lurched forward, leaning on the kid to keep his balance. The boy took his weight without a word, maneuvering through the corridors with deceptive ease. This kid had all the agility of the other one. Granted, being able to walk around in the real world instead of being suspended in a tube hadn't hurt. It was hard, looking at him, to suppress the stab of envy at his easy grace and strength, especially considering his own condition. All that blood-loss had left him kitten-weak, making walking a chore where it had once been nothing more than a means of travel.

They made it outside and passed the castle gardens. He could see the signs of spring's approach—flowers blooming in colorful rows, little green buds forming on the stems of bushes, leaves unfurling on their branches. Subtler signs—the whisper of running water, the smell of soil, the slight change in the angle of the sunlight—created an awareness of the seasonal change on a less obvious level. He breathed in, tasting the oxygen.

"Are you all right?" the boy asked again.

"I'm _fine_. Jeez. Can't I enjoy spring for five seconds without you getting all worried?"

Syaoran stared at him for a moment, puzzled. "I . . . I didn't know you liked springtime."

He shrugged. Though he didn't care to admit something so sappy, spring was actually his favorite season. The mud puddles formed by melting ice, the explosion of growth and life, the crisp taste of the air as it reached that perfect balance between the dryness of winter and the humidity of summer . . . Everything changed in spring. "It's a good season," he said. "Sucks a lot less than winter."

The kid nodded, starting forward again. "Hinata-san said the hot springs were this way."

"I know. I've lived here most of my life, remember?"

"Ah, right. What was it like? Living here, I mean."

"Well, there were servants to do all the cooking and cleaning and stuff," he said, since that was the first thing to pop into his head. He hadn't had any servants tending to him since Tomoyo had sent him away. The domestic aspects of traveling with three other people had challenged him at first, though he'd have been damned if he'd shown it. In a way, it was strange to be tended to again. "It wasn't much different from the way we've been living. Nicer place to sleep, I guess. I spent a lot more time training here than I did while we were traveling, but I wasn't as busy with other stuff."

Syaoran nodded, seeming interested despite the vagueness of his explanations. "Did you like it here?"

He blinked in surprise. "Well . . . yeah. If I didn't have to deal with the bastard who started all this, I'd probably stay here." He frowned, his mind flashing back to the night Suwa had burned. He could still taste the smoke, could still see the portal where Fei Wang Reed had thrust his sword through time and space to kill his mother. He could still smell the charnel stench of demons. "It's not about revenge," he said after a moment. "If that was all it was, then I'd be able to set it aside. One of the things I've learned on this journey is that seeking revenge only results in pain. But . . ." He stopped in the middle of the path, looking up at the cherry blossoms. Shy, pink flowers rustled along the branches. "If he lives, he'll only cause us more trouble. I've got too much to lose by ignoring the threat." He looked at the kid, saw the glint of understanding in his eyes.

"It's that way for me, too," the boy eventually said. "I would do anything to protect the people I care about."

_I know, _he thought, raising his arm to tousle the kid's hair. _That's another thing I've learned. _

"Take a left," he said after a moment, looking toward a fork in the path. "There are hot springs on both sides, but the ones on the left are more private."

The kid nodded, and together they moved forward again. Just a few paces after the turn, the sound of rushing water grew louder, and the trees parted to reveal a small pool with steam skimming over the top. A few clean towels sat off to the side—the palace servants kept the springs well stocked for those who wanted to bathe there, especially when winter waned and outdoor bathing became less miserable. As he'd suspected, this reservoir was devoid of people, hidden from prying eyes by rows of trees.

"Help me undress," Kurogane ordered.

"Sure." Syaoran faced him and started untying the knots holding the simple robe in place. The garment fell to his feet, followed moments later by his underclothes. The only thing that remained were the bandages on his side and shoulder.

"These, too," he said, pointing toward his side.

Syaoran balked. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"The bandages will get soggy in the water. The side wound's not that bad, anyway." The last time the healers had unwound the bandages to treat it, it had been an ugly mass of scabs and scar tissue, but they'd told him it was healing up well, so he figured it was time to take the bandages off.

The boy didn't argue, eyeing the wrappings only for a moment before unwinding them. As they came free, Kurogane let out a slow breath, relieved to feel the air on his skin even if the cloth stuck to his scabs, pulling at the wounds.

"There," Syaoran said, stepping back. "It's done."

"Good. Help me into the water."

The boy let Kurogane lean on him again as they eased their way into the shallow end of the pool. The kid ended up getting his kimono wet up to the knees before Kurogane stopped and ordered him back to dry land. He managed to wade thigh-deep in the water before easing his body down to sit. The water nipped at his stump of a shoulder, forcing him into a shallower section of the pool.

The boy watched him for a moment from the edge of the hot spring, then started undressing. Unable to help himself, Kurogane watched him slip off his underclothes, admiring the sinewy lines of his body. The kid had hit a growth spurt, his once-fragile looking shoulders growing broader, the planes of his face less rounded. He moved with confidence, even purpose, his shyness absent even as he stripped off the last of his clothes and walked toward the water. If he'd ever looked like a child, he'd long since outgrown it.

"Here," Syaoran said, coming over to his side. He raised his hand, dripping wet, and splayed his fingers over Kurogane's chest. "Let me help you."

He grunted in assent, leaning back against the rocks. The boy's hands moved deftly over his skin, wiping away the grime that had accumulated since his last bath. After a few minutes, Kurogane closed his eyes, letting the kid scrub his torso, hips, legs. The boy even tilted his head back to wash his hair, fingers rubbing his scalp in little circles. Absently, Kurogane wished he'd remembered to bring soap. The mage and the pork bun were constantly buying personal hygiene products—things that left his skin almost unnaturally clean and his hair shiny and manageable. He wished he'd had the kid fetch them before they'd headed out.

But he didn't really want to ruin the moment by sending the boy away now, so he sat back, content.

Eventually, the kid's hands left his scalp and sank below the water's surface to probe at the skin around his scabs. "Did the healers say anything about how to clean this?"

Kurogane shrugged. "I suppose you clean it as best as you can without ripping all the scabs off." His eyelids opened, and he ran his hand down the boy's arm. "I can do it, if you don't want to."

Syaoran shook his head. "No. I've got it." He traced his fingertips lightly along the edge of the wound. "Once, I came back from the library in Infinity with a black eye, and you cleaned my wounds. That . . . I think that was one of the first times I'd trusted someone since I'd escaped Fei Wang's prison." He lifted his head, his expression warming with the memory. "I want to do the same for you."

Kurogane considered that, then nodded. "All right."

The kid's hands ran along the wound, his touch light, almost nonexistent as he cleared away the loose scabs. He looked focused, like a painter working on a masterpiece, and Kurogane spent those few minutes admiring the intensity of his focus, memorizing the way his features shifted in concentration: eyebrows pinched together, slanted inward just slightly; mouth set in a firm line, but not brittle or hard enough to show frustration; head tilted forward, toward the water; eyes that glowed like embers with warmth. When the boy pulled away, Kurogane let his hand tangle in his hair, and they shared a look that made his breath catch.

The boy leaned forward, their mouths meeting the way sunshine touched bare skin. Warmth and light and love. The moment came and went in the time it took to breathe in, then faded, leaving a soft glow between them.

_Gods, when did I get so sappy? _he wondered as the moment faded. The thought had no bite to it. At least he kept the romantic musings to himself. People would mock him mercilessly if they ever found out he'd gone soft.

"We should go back," Kurogane said. "Unless you wanted to bathe yourself first."

The kid smiled. "I think that can wait," he said, and started pulling him back to dry land.


	97. A Common Wish

Chapter Ninety-Seven

Syaoran would remember the next seven days more like a series of snapshots than a string of cohesive events.

First, he'd remember the grin on Kurogane's face when Hinata told him he'd be able to move out of the medical wing at last. Syaoran sat in the corner of the room, trying to appear busy as the healer gave the news, but watched them both as a smile fought its way to his lips. Oddly, Hinata's look of relief mirrored the ninja's, though hers was tinged with a weariness that made him wonder just how hectic her job had to be.

The second thing he'd remember would be standing in the imperial garden, admiring rows and rows of paper lanterns as Tomoyo admitted people—nobles and commoners, men, women, and children—onto the castle grounds in preparation for the festival. The cherry blossoms had come into full bloom, pinkish-white petals swaying in the light breeze as people chatted amongst themselves. The focal point of this memory was not the grandeur of the garden or the people in it, but the young girl with sun-kissed hair cradled in the branches above, kept alive by a combination of her own innate magic and the tree's spiritual qualities. She looked strangely peaceful, eyes closed as if in sleep, yet Syaoran couldn't help but feel guilty as he looked at her. Hinata and the other healers had tended her wounds and changed her into a more appropriate outfit, but he couldn't chase from his mind those moments in Infinity when he'd believed her dead.

The third thing he remembered was racing down a dirt path on his way to Kurogane's room, eyes blurring with tears he refused to shed. The fourth thing he remembered was sliding the door open and seeing Kurogane sitting up in his bed and staring at the wall toward the festivities, perhaps listening, perhaps only daydreaming. The fifth, crawling into the ninja's bed and pressing his face against the man's good shoulder to hide the tears that had escaped his eyes. The sixth, apologizing profusely even as the sobs ripped through his lungs. The seventh, hearing the words _It doesn't matter _and _It's __all right _over and over again until he calmed down.

"I'm sorry," he said when he trusted his voice. "I overreacted. I should—"

"Stay," Kurogane finished, resting his chin on Syaoran's shoulder.

"But I . . ."

"Stay and tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

He shook his head. "It's not . . . It's not something that can be fixed," he said, burying his face in the crook of the ninja's neck. After a few tremulous breaths, he clarified. "I saw Sakura, up in the tree."

Kurogane stiffened. "Did something happen?"

"No, it's not that. She . . . She looked so peaceful up there, and I thought: _It looks like she's sleeping. _Like Snow White_._"

"Who?"

Syaoran blinked. He hadn't really considered the fact that Nihon wouldn't have the same fairytales he had grown up with. "It's an old story about a woman whose beauty causes a jealous queen to despise her. One day, the queen disguises herself as an old woman and gives the woman a poisoned apple that puts her into a death-like sleep."

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. "What kind of queen gets jealous enough to poison one of her subjects?"

Syaoran shrugged. "She was evil, I guess. Anyway, when I saw Sakura . . ." He trailed off, not sure how to convey that it had been the peacefulness itself that had unnerved him. "She's not asleep. Not really. Everything she was—everything she could ever have been—was taken from her when her body and soul split. Her body's still alive, but . . ."

"But you're worried that _she's _not coming back," Kurogane finished when he trailed off. Syaoran nodded. "Kid, listen: if we're living in a fairytale, then the author is one sick, sadistic bastard. And if someone _is_ up there writing about all the shit that's happened to us in the past few months, I will personally go to the witch and ask her to give me a shot at them." The back of his hand brushed across Syaoran's cheekbone. "The only person I take orders from is Princess Tomoyo. Other than that, I make my own choices. And so did the princess. She told us she'd been looking for a way to keep all of us alive. If you doubt her now, it's as good as saying you never believed she could make a difference in the first place."

Syaoran looked down. "I didn't mean it like that. I just . . . There's a price for changing the future." _And for changing the past. _"Right now, we don't know what form that will take. That worries me."

Kurogane's hand settled on his shoulder. "You have no way of finding out right now. There's no point in worrying."

"I know." He lowered his head. "I know," he repeated softly. He leaned into the ninja's side. "Thanks for listening. I think I just needed someone to talk to."

"Always." His arm tightened slightly around Syaoran's shoulders in a gesture of comfort. The minutes slipped past like sand between loose fingers until the only sound was the distant noise of people chattering in the garden. After a while, Kurogane spoke again. "Hey, you want to go to the festival with me tomorrow night? I'm sick of lying around."

His heart started thumping. "Like a date?"

The ninja's cheeks darkened. "Well . . . We've never actually been on a date before, have we? I guess we better get that out of the way so we can check it off the list."

Syaoran's lips pulled into a broad smile. _How like him, _he thought fondly, _to treat our first real date like a chore._ "Okay. Meet tomorrow at sunset?"

"Sounds fine to me. But no touchy-feely stuff in public, got it?"

"Okay." He raised his head, fastening his mouth over the ninja's lips and lingering there for a few moments. Then he stood. "I'll see you then."

* * *

Within minutes after the boy left, Tomoyo arrived in his chambers. "Good afternoon, Kurogane," she said.

Grimacing with pain, Kurogane shifted and bowed so his head touched the floor. "Tsukiyomi," he said formally. "What's the occasion?"

Tomoyo smiled, saying nothing as she knelt at his bedside. "I wished to speak with you, now that you're feeling better."

He sat up, absently rubbing the fresh bandages on his shoulder. "Did you have a dream?"

Something flickered across Tomoyo's face, gone too quick to identify. She looked down, folding her hands on her lap. "I can no longer see the future in my dreams."

His spine went rigid. "What? Since when? Why? It was the witch, wasn't it?"

Tomoyo smiled sadly and nodded. "I gave up my ability to see the future in order to ensure that you and the others would land here at the moment when you needed it most. I lost my power when you left Ceres."

He felt his shoulders slump. "Why?" he asked, his voice sounding faraway even to his ears. _Why sacrifice something so valuable for the sake of three strangers and one ninja?_

"I saw a great many futures before I gave up my visions. Your choices, and the choices of your companions, have opened up a new path for you, a path that makes you even more valuable to this world and every other world than I could ever be. Our enemy's wish affects not only you and your friends, but every world that has ever existed. And because of his wish, reason itself is beginning to crumble. If he is not stopped . . ." She shook her head, and his stomach tightened as he saw the shiver run down her body. "The consequences of his wish will destroy the very fabric of the universe. It would cause a series of disasters that humanity could never recover from."

"What's his wish? What's so important that he's got to rip the universe apart by the threads?"

To his surprise, Tomoyo smiled. "His wish, I think, is not so different from your own." When he stiffened, she laid a gentle hand on his wrist. "It is a wish nearly everybody has made, but nobody has ever accomplished—a wish that threatens the rules of the universe, and therefore everything it contains." Her dark eyes met his. "He wishes to bring someone back to life, Kurogane."

"So what? So does everyone. What makes his wish so special?"

"Because soon he will have the power to accomplish it." She sighed. "I have not seen enough to know how he plans to do it, but I have seen what will happen if he does. With every choice you make that moves contrary to his plan, that future grows weaker. Fei Wang Reed _can _be beaten. You and your companions have the power to do it."

"How?"

"I do not know."

"Then what do I need to do to be ready?"

"I do not know," she said again. "And I'm afraid I can give you no further guidance."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, studying her. After almost a minute, he spoke. "It's happening soon, isn't it? The final battle."

"Yes."

"Then I have to be ready to fight. I lost my sword in the last world. I'm going to need a weapon."

"I will take care of it."

He nodded, having expected as much. "The kid and the mage need to be warned."

"In time, Kurogane."

His eyes narrowed. "Why not now?"

"It would interfere with the way things must occur. If one wishes to change the future, they must also choose the correct time to disclose information about it. Saying more now could jeopardize what you have all sacrificed so much to do."

Kurogane regarded her for several seconds, then sighed. "All right, but I still don't like it."

"And one other thing." Tomoyo turned to him, touching his forehead with her fingertips. Magic flared just under his skin, sparking down his body like jolts of electricity. He gasped, mind going blank for a moment even as his instincts screamed for him to retaliate.

"What did you just do?" he gasped, pressing a hand to his forehead. It didn't seem to be bleeding, but he could still feel the tingle under his skin, as if someone had spent the better part of the afternoon sticking needles into his forehead.

"I removed the remnants of the spell I placed on you before you left. Your strength will no longer be sapped if you kill someone." Her expression grew somber. "I do not do this lightly. You are a good man, Kurogane, and you have grown considerably as a person, but you are also impulsive and, at times, dangerous. I am not giving you permission to kill indiscriminately, but I cannot expect you to face our enemy with my magic holding you back. Do not make me regret this."

If anyone other than Tomoyo had used that tone with him, he'd have knocked them out. But it _was _Tomoyo, so instead of losing his temper, he nodded. "I understand." Then, after a moment's consideration, he added, "I don't think I'd be able to look the others in the eye if I went back to the person I was. Even if circumstances force me to kill, I won't let myself become a monster."

Surprise flickered across Tomoyo's face, followed by a smile so bright it threatened to outshine the sun. "I would expect no less." She stood, her smile turning mischievous. "In any case, you still have some time before you leave this world. You should enjoy it. I heard you had a date for tomorrow evening."

He felt a blush creep across his cheeks. "Uh . . . yeah. Wait a minute—you were eavesdropping, weren't you?"

She giggled, sliding the door open. "Well, now that my visions are gone, I have to find new ways to get information," she explained, stepping into the hallway. "Have fun on your date!"

"Very funny," he growled, watching the door slide shut between them.


	98. Black Silk

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Syaoran frowned, tying the belt around his waist and staring at himself in the garden's reflecting rock. Sora had brought him an assortment of new outfits, thrilled to have someone show interest in his designs. Syaoran had asked the man whether he'd be expected to wear something formal at the Spring Festival, and Sora had responded by gushing about several new outfits and demanding that he try them on. Out of courtesy, Syaoran had agreed.

He was starting to regret that decision.

"This one complements your skin tone," Sora said, nodding. "It would have to be tailored, but the style works well with your body type. What do you think?"

"It's great." He lifted one drooping sleeve. Tassels ringed the opening, tickling his wrist when he moved. "These are nice accents."

"Excellent," Sora said. "Shall we try the next one, then? It's got some gold stitching along the front that I think you would just _adore_."

"Um . . . I guess so."

Sora stooped down, pulling a flowing white garment from his basket. As he did, a shadow fell across the grass. Instinctively, Syaoran tensed, turning toward the figure behind him and shifting into a subtle fighting stance.

"Not bad, kid," Kurogane said, eyeing him with surprise and approval. "But you still need to pay better attention to your surroundings. You should have sensed me long before you saw my shadow."

He relaxed, his expression warming. "Good morning."

"My lord Kurogane," Sora said, bowing. "It is an honor to meet you in person. I was just helping Syaoran-sama select an outfit for the festival."

Syaoran jumped a little at the honorific. Only rarely in his childhood had he been referred to as "Syaoran-sama," and those instances had occurred when he'd been with his Sakura. He understood now that the people at Shirasagi Castle regarded Kurogane in much the same way as the people of Clow saw their princess. _I never realized how high a position Kurogane held in his world,_ he thought._ It makes sense, though. To protect a member of the royal family . . . of course he would be respected. _

Beside him, Kurogane studied the clothes Sora had laid out. He stepped forward, grabbing the sleeve of one outfit and rubbing it between his fingers. "Please feel free to look at any of these" Sora said, sounding eager. "I'd love to get your opinion."

If Kurogane heard, he gave no indication. He walked over to another outfit, studying it for a moment, brushing his fingertips across the fabric. "You spent a lot of time on these."

Sora beamed. "Oh, yes. I designed every piece myself."

"The fabric is a bit sheer for this early in the year."

The man's smile faltered. "These were meant for summertime, actually, but I think with proper underclothes, they would be warm enough."

Kurogane paused, absorbing that. Then he picked up a black tunic with maroon trim. "Hey kid, have you tried this one on yet?"

Syaoran nodded.

"And? Does it look good?"

He hesitated, taking the slippery fabric in his hands. Black silk. "They all look good."

Kurogane raised an eyebrow. "Does it fit?"

"The sleeves need to be tailored," Sora interjected. "It fits the rest of his body well."

The ninja nodded and turned toward Sora. "Can you have that done before the festival starts tonight?"

The man shot up onto his tiptoes, eyes shimmering with excitement. "Absolutely! I'll just have to take measurements, and track down my apprentice. Have you met Ayame? Big eyes, wears pigtails?" When no one responded, he went on. "She can sew like no one I've ever seen before. It's almost magical. She'll be able to fix the sleeves in no time. Now, Syaoran-sama, hold still." He flitted over to stand in front of Syaoran and started taking measurements. "Yes, there. And there. Good. Very doable. Let's just try that outfit on once more so I can get a clear idea of how the sleeves should be done. You should be able to remove the one you're wearing now if you just untie the belt and loosen the ties on the top."

He hesitated, his eyes snapping to where Kurogane stood a few feet away. The red-eyed man studied him, leaning against the trunk of a _sakura _tree with his elbow propped against a low branch. Petals drifted down around him, some landing on his shoulders, contrasting the velvety blackness of his clothes.

A blush crept across Syaoran's cheeks. He'd spent the better part of two hours dressing and undressing out in the open so he could see how he looked in front of the garden's reflecting rock, but it felt strange to contemplate doing that now, with his lover standing just a few feet away as another man asked him to strip.

Hands shaking, he untied the belt around his waist, folding it up and laying it on the blanket Sora had laid out to keep the clothes from touching the ground. As he set it down, he glanced at the ninja. Red eyes stared back at him, glinting with interest, as if to say, _What will you do? _

Syaoran inhaled, forcing his fingers to stop trembling. He started untying the knots holding the front of his tunic together, his blush deepening each time he dared look up to see Kurogane still watching him.

When he'd stripped himself of everything except his underclothes, Sora handed him the black outfit. Syaoran dressed quickly, face burning. Fortunately, Sora helped him with the laces, tying them in what Syaoran imagined to be a special, aesthetically-pleasing series of knots. Unfortunately, that meant he had nothing to do with his hands, and therefore nothing to keep him from focusing on the ninja watching him dress. _Why is he looking at me like that? _

It occurred to him that Kurogane might have intervened to make sure he chose something fitting for the occasion, though Syaoran doubted Sora would supply him with anything inappropriate. Or perhaps Kurogane had overheard his polite attempts to staunch the never-ending flow of new clothes and decided to rescue him before he spent the next four hours trying on different ensembles. _But why stay? He gave his opinion. He can't possibly be staying in order to make sure our outfits match, can he? _Kurogane was self-aware enough to know that he had too little experience with fashion to do anything more complicated than matching colors. Syaoran doubted the man owned anything that wasn't black, save for the _hakama_ he'd worn in Outo, which he'd selected for the familiar style, rather than color.

"Perfect," Sora said, finishing the knots and stepping aside so Syaoran could see his reflection on the black rock. The dark fabric slimmed his figure, making him look tall and willowy. When Kurogane walked over to his side, dressed in the white robes he'd been wearing since he'd arrived in the medical wing, Syaoran realized he had chosen the black outfit so that they would contrast, not match. Such a simple idea, yet the intensity of the contrast provided an aesthetic appeal all its own. "Well?" Sora asked. "What do you think?"

"We look perfect together," Syaoran said without thinking. At once, the blush returned, dyeing his face a deep crimson. He looked away from the glossy rock, turning his face toward Kurogane's chest. The ninja rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Yeah. Let's go with that."

"Great." Sora hurried over to his basket, picking up a scroll and writing something down. Syaoran undressed quickly, donning his day clothes. "That should be all I need. I'll have Ayame drop it off in your room by dusk, if that's all right." When no one objected, he gathered his things in his basket and started toward the castle.

Alone in the secluded section of the garden, Syaoran found the courage to speak. "I didn't know you knew so much about fashion."

Kurogane stared at him. "Huh?"

"Well . . . The contrasting colors complement each other very well. It's so simple, but it really stands out, especially with the way the silk catches the light."

The ninja quirked one eyebrow. "Okay . . ."

"You . . . did all that by accident, didn't you?" He deflated, feeling absurdly disappointed. "I did like that one, although the laces in the front are going to be a little hard to tie and untie."

"I know. That was the whole point."

A silence stretched out between them. _What does he mean by that? _Syaoran wondered. He'd have expected Kurogane to prefer something simpler. In fact, all logic and experience dictated that Kurogane would choose something easy to slip in and out of over something with complicated knots. "Why?" Syaoran asked, baffled.

Kurogane lifted his hand to tilt Syaoran's head up and leaned forward so his lips were at his ear. "Because," he purred, and the hair on the back of Syaoran's neck stood up as his face turned the color of a cherry, "more knots means I get to spend longer undressing you after the festival."

"Oh. That's . . . Uh . . ." He trailed off as the ninja's lips skimmed across his neck. Kurogane's hand slipped between them and slid downward, eventually closing around Syaoran's thigh. A spot of heat flared to life in his chest, part panic and part arousal. "Wow."

"_After _the festival," Kurogane said, stepping back. His eyes glinted with amusement. "Unless you don't think you can wait that long."

He opened his mouth, struggling to breathe. He felt almost dizzy, too stunned to respond. A dozen fantasies played out in his mind, vivid enough to make him wonder, not for the first time, just what was _wrong _with him.

"I'll see you tonight," Kurogane said, a faint smile flickering across his lips. It was gone in a second, fleeting, like all his genuine smiles. He turned and headed back toward the castle, leaving Syaoran hyperventilating in the garden.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Well, it's the end of May, and I did say I was going to try and increase my update frequency after this. That's still my goal, but I do still have one week of school left, so if I can't switch back to my three-day rotation just yet, I apologize. I will, however, guarantee weekly updates. I know I can accomplish that much no matter how busy I am._


	99. The Element of Laughter

_Author's Notes:_

_Sorry for the late update: On Friday, I had my high school graduation, a rehearsal, and a birthday-graduation party to attend, so I literally had no time to edit this chapter (no excuse for poor planning, but I do consider myself to be quite lazy). Then, on Saturday, I was having issues logging into FFN because for some reason, the site was working really slowly. So, this is the first chance I've had to edit and post this. Sorry for the delay!_

_Anyway, there will be explicit content in this chapter. Yeah. I figured some of you might have been getting bored (frankly, so was I. It's been a slow couple of weeks for writing). So I added some smut into the story._

_And yes, the chapter title is a reference to _My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic_. Don't judge me._

* * *

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Dusk.

Syaoran slipped on his new outfit, shivering as the black silk slid across his body. It fit perfectly, the tailored sleeves ending at his wrists. He tightened the laces holding the front of the outfit together, securing each section with an elaborate knot, as he'd watched Sora do all morning while he'd tried on different outfits. His work looked a lot clumsier than Sora's had, but considering the complexity of the knots, Syaoran decided no one would judge him too harshly.

Unfortunately, each knot he tied reminded him of what Kurogane had said in the garden. Syaoran struggled to repress the flush of heat creeping across the back of his neck at the thought. By the time he laced up the last section, his breathing had grown heavy and his cheeks burned like he had a fever. _How am I going to make it through the night without embarrassing myself? _he wondered. He could already imagine staggering through the imperial garden, covering himself with his hands in a futile attempt to preserve his dignity. How shameful would it be to lose control of his body on his first real date, in front of all those people, just because of a few whispered words?

Humiliated by his own train of thought, he did the only thing he could think to do: he went to Kurogane.

Thankfully, no one passed him in the hallway, not even the servants who usually occupied the castle at dusk. The festival had started hours ago, not long after he'd selected his outfit, and most of the people in attendance had left the castle to have fun. He made it to the ninja's quarters without incident. Kurogane waited inside, glancing up when he entered. "You're late."

The rosy tint on his cheeks deepened. His eyes dropped. "S-sorry. I . . . I had some trouble with the knots. On my outfit. I wasn't sure how to . . ." His voice trailed off, dying in his throat without his permission. He fell silent, mortified.

Kurogane approached until Syaoran felt the heat coming off his body. His hand swept down the length of Syaoran's arm, smoothing the fine hairs there. Kurogane's skin felt like fire through the sheer material of his outfit. Syaoran started hyperventilating, his cheeks flushing with desire. Abruptly, the ninja's hand darted lower, moving between his legs. He squeaked in shock, body going still. "You," Kurogane said matter-of-factly, "are as hard as a rock."

He grit his teeth, unable to meet the man's eyes. "Sorry."

To his utter shock and mortification, Kurogane chuckled. Every muscle in his body went as tense as a tightrope. _He's laughing at me. _An unfamiliar surge of anger accompanied the thought. _He's _laughing _at me! _

He tried to pull away, but before he could, an arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him forward. He planted a hand on the ninja's chest in a futile attempt to distance himself from the low vibration of his laughter. But instead of pushing himself away, he pressed his face against the ninja's shirt in shame.

Kurogane must have sensed the discrepancy in their moods because he sobered almost instantly, loosening his grip. "What's wrong?"

"You laughed at me."

"When?"

"Just now! When you . . . when you said that I was . . . you know."

"_That's _what's bothering you?" he asked, shocked, as if Syaoran had just told him he wanted to take up ballroom dancing. Syaoran nodded into his shirt. "Well, that's a stupid reason to be upset."

He didn't know which was worse: not being taken seriously, or the fact that despite the tears gathering in his eyes, he couldn't ignore the desire coiled in his belly. His fingers curled around Kurogane's shirt, shaking as he stood in the crossfire of conflicting emotions. "It's not a stupid reason," he mumbled. "It's _humiliating_."

Kurogane's fingers tensed on the small of his back, then relaxed. "You're right. I shouldn't have laughed. I'm sorry."

The apology startled him enough to derail his hurt. "You are?"

"Yeah." The man's fingers curled in his hair.

Syaoran leaned forward, resting his forehead on the ninja's collarbone. The humiliation he'd faced a moment ago faded, replaced with a weaker embarrassment at his overreaction. He wrapped his arms around Kurogane's neck and stood up on his tiptoes, tilting his head back for a kiss. Kurogane's mouth closed over his, a wonderful, warm pressure on his lips. Kisses didn't fix anything, but they definitely made the bad things seem less important. Syaoran let the tip of his tongue trace the ninja's lower lip. In response, Kurogane surged forward, his movements rough, demanding. His breath invaded Syaoran's mouth, making him lightheaded. He sunk deeper into the kiss, moaning as Kurogane's tongue explored his mouth.

Somehow, they ended up on the bed, tangled together amongst blankets, limbs, and clothes. Syaoran propped himself up to burrow into the ninja's warmth. Their breathing increased in tempo, and moments later, a shock of cold air brushed against Syaoran's legs as his pants were pulled free. His fingers knotted in Kurogane's shirt. "Wait," he gasped as he felt a hand moving up his thigh.

"What?"

"I can't get these clothes dirty. They're good silk."

Kurogane stared at him, the moment seeming to stretch on for eons as Syaoran's heart raced. "Hold still." Kurogane pushed the rumpled fabric of Syaoran's shirt upward and tugged his pants in the opposite direction. Syaoran kicked them off, leaving them in a heap next to the bed.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, toes curling in anticipation.

"You'll see." Kurogane pressed his lips to Syaoran's knee, then started moving his mouth up his thigh. Syaoran went lightheaded as all the blood in his body surged downward. His nearly forgotten desire came back in force.

As Kurogane's lips found the curve of his hip, a wordless plea escaped his throat. When he felt the man's tongue trace a line down his shaft, that plea dissolved into a moan. He threw his head back, trying to remember how to breathe as all rational thoughts fled his mind. Moments later, Kurogane's mouth closed around him. The warm, moist cavern constricted with an almost gentle suction, sending a surge of pleasure up his back. His mind went blank, his moans rising in pitch and volume.

Pleasure ripped through him like a knife, a white-hot sensation almost indistinguishable from pain. His heart jumped, knocking against his ribs with a rapid beat. His body tensed and then went limp.

He recovered several minutes later to find Kurogane lying at his side, cradling his body with his remaining arm and nuzzling the top of his head. Syaoran turned toward him, returning the embrace with languid arms. His pants lay abandoned somewhere on the floor, leaving his legs exposed to the open air. The air cooled the wetness between his thighs, slowly evaporating the evidence of tonight's tryst.

"So," Kurogane said after a moment, "how was it?"

"Amazing."

A hint of pride touched the man's eyes. "Good."

"Was it . . . all right for you?" Syaoran asked. "I mean, it can be a little . . . strange, the first time."

"It was good. Maybe too good."

Syaoran tilted his head back, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The ninja's cheeks darkened with a blush. "We might have to put off going to the festival for a few more minutes."

It took a moment for his confusion to break. When it did, he looked down. "Oh. I can . . . fix that for you, if you want."

"That would be good."

Syaoran hastily pulled up his pants, smoothing the front of his top in the hopes that it wouldn't be too obviously ruffled by the time they actually made it to the festival. He ran his fingertips along the ninja's side, listening for the catch in his breath as he tensed. Syaoran paused, then lifted the ninja's shirt to press his lips against his abdomen. His fingers skimmed along the top off the ninja's pants.

Since he had rather recent experience with being forced to wait to have his desires fulfilled, he decided to be merciful. He pulled Kurogane's pants down to his knees and let his lips close around his length. At once, Kurogane groaned, the fingers of his remaining hand tangling in Syaoran's hair. "_Fuck, _you're good at that."

_I've had practice, _Syaoran would have said, had his mouth not been otherwise occupied. Evidently, all his practice had been worth it, because it took only minutes to achieve the desired effect. Near the end, Kurogane's grip on his hair tightened, ripping a few strands free. Seconds later, he climaxed, panting as if he'd spent the past half hour doing sword practice.

When it was done, Syaoran retied all the knots and rearranged both their clothes so they didn't look like they'd just spent half an hour doing . . . _things_ with each other.

"So," Syaoran said after a few minutes. "Should we go?"

"Go?"

"To the festival."

Kurogane's eyes snapped open. He shot up as if someone had dumped cold water on him. "Shit."

Alarmed, Syaoran sat up. "What?"

"Tomoyo knows we planned to be there at dusk. She'll know why we're late."

"How did she . . . Never mind." He stood, smoothing out his clothes one last time. "How do I look?"

"Your hair's a mess. Here." Kurogane grabbed a bristly hairbrush from the edge of the room and tossed it to him. Syaoran raked it through his hair, wincing as the flexible wires dug into his scalp. Thankfully, he'd kept his hair short—it took only a few strokes to dislodge the tangles.

"Am I presentable?" he asked, handing the brush back. Kurogane studied him for a moment, then, without a word, grabbed a small towel from a stack on the floor and dabbed the corner of it on Syaoran's lips. He blushed a deep scarlet.

"There. Let's go." Kurogane pulled the door open. "People will be wondering where we've been."

"Well . . . we could tell them that we were busy with sword practice," Syaoran said, smiling. Kurogane's head whipped around, as if he believed he'd misheard. Blushing, Syaoran looked down. As the remark sunk in, Kurogane started snickering, a rare smile lighting up his face. Syaoran joined in, pleased with the man's reaction.

Tonight, they would laugh _with _each other.


End file.
